About the book

Mahi: The Story of India's Most Successful Captain charts the dynamic rise of one of India's most talented and charismatic cricketers and captains. From playing tennis-ball cricket in Ranchi and Kharagpur to his patented helicopter shot, Dhoni has come a long way with his grit and determination. With best ODI and Test records among all Indian captains to date, it is his simple and down-to-earth attitude that works wonders for the captain as well as the team.

ROLI BOOKS

This digital edition published in 2014

First published in 2013 by The Lotus Collection An Imprint of Roli Books Pvt. Ltd M-75, Greater Kailash- II Market New Delhi 110 048 Phone: ++91 (011) 40682000 Email: [email protected] Website: www.rolibooks.com

Copyright © Shantanu Guha Roy 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, print reproduction, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Roli Books. Any unauthorized distribution of this e- book may be considered a direct infringement of copyright and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Cover Design: Bonita Vaz-Shimray Cover Photographs: Getty Images Insert Pictures Courtesy: Rajesh Kumar/Sen Studios, Getty Images, Shantanu Guha Ray, the Hindu Archive eISBN : 978-93-5194-012-8

All rights reserved. This e-book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published. For

Keya and Bonny my strength in life

Contents

Prologue

A Humble Beginning

Tennis Ball Cricket

Hard Life in Hills, Glory in Plains

First Job Blues

The Buck Stops Here

Fireworks in the Desert

A Phenomenon Called Dhoni

Chatty Selectors vs Dhoni Power

Wanderers Knight: The T20 World Cup

Wife for Dhoni

Jharkhand Push: Dhoni is our Boy

It’s my Night, India’s Might: The ICC World Cup

A Lone King

About the Author Prologue

No one leaves business reporting for sports writing. My friends were flabbergasted when I told them of my intention to join ESPN Star Sports in the summer of 2002.

But why, they asked. For the love of sports, I replied. However, not a soul was impressed, largely because the shift was not routine. In India, reporters have rarely moved from sports journalism to business reporting and back again.

In short, I could sense that my friends were convinced I was messing up my career. Why not the net? Get into the web world, argued some. Those were the days of the net revolution. The bubble was just starting to take shape. And the big bucks portals were on a mad talent hunt, offering pots of cash. There was Hungama, Tehelka, and even Naradmuni. So why join a sports channel?

But I was totally convinced that it was the right move for me.

At the end of the day, it was about reporting, right? Backing me to the hilt was the person who brought the offer, my former colleague, Joy Bhattacharjya. Until he joined ESPN after a stint with Transworld International (TWI), Joy had been a hands-on man for computer applications, television programming, quizzes, and dating. Joy was brilliant in whatever he did. To me, he was the quintessential lover boy. To him, I was the quintessential newshound.

Joy’s advice was simple but worth a million dollars: he was convinced that nothing would sell for the next three decades in Indian sports except cricket. The added advantage for ESPN Star Sports was that the world’s largest sports broadcaster had the bulk of the overseas cricket rights and the Indian cricket team was to play more matches abroad that year (2002). The situation remains largely unchanged. Star Sports has the cricket that matters for Indians.

And if you are with a sports channel, it means you virtually crisscross the globe with the game and the cricketers. I signed on the dotted line, without realizing that the employment contract initially offered the job for just three months. Ujjwal Sarao, the genial HR head of ESPN Star Sports then had a great laugh before changing it into a year. It meant that I had a year to prove myself.

ESPN Star Sports with its 27-camera coverage of cricket was a completely new world for me. It was fun from the first day. I had – in the formative years of my career – covered football, but eventually dropped it because both the game, and the players were headed nowhere in India. I presume it is pretty much the same story now, despite what many claim is a ‘heroic’ attempt by NCP leader Praful Patel to push football to a larger platform by bringing in some of the world’s top stars, including Lionel Messi.

But it’s a wholly different world when you talk of cricket. It is because cricket bought more success to India than any other sport. Till M.S. Dhoni led his team to the World Cup success in 2011, the 1983 World Cup win was the only one etched in the minds of millions. But India already had started acquiring center stage in world cricket under Saurav Ganguly. Bengal’s classy left hander led a team that won the Natwest Series in 2002, excelled in the 2003 ICC World Cup, the Test-ODI series Down Under and the ice-breaking Pakistan series. Cricket brought loads of cash for the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) and it became the richest body of its kind in the world. In 2008, Dhoni’s boys had won the inaugural T20 World Cup in faraway South Africa.

Cricket was on an upswing. On the other hand, football and hockey got India virtually nothing. An interesting piece of research from cricket historian Boria Mazumdar shows the 1975 World Hockey Cup win in Kuala Lumpur came when black-and-white television sets were a luxury. So the generation that loved hockey could not remember the win and help the game grow. The 1982 Delhi Asian Games 1-7 loss to Pakistan made matters worse. Naturally, the generation that followed wasn’t interested in anything else but cricket.

Perhaps it was the reason why ESPN Star Sports – now two separate entities post the split – remained doubly focused on cricket. The channel wanted nothing but cricket from India. At times, working out of their swanky office in Singapore, I wondered whether there was anything else than the willow game that pushed the channel’s operations in South Asia. There was none. Football was also a priority for the channel but it was only international football, especially the English Premier League and La Liga. There was also Formula1, PGA tours and some second-hand wrestling, Total Action Network (TNA) that looked pale in front of those high-voltage shows of World Wrestling Federation (WWF) telecast on a rival channel.

But the big cash for the channel was in the willow game.

Initially, I rebelled and spent some time pushing football from Kolkata. Joy pushed other stuff. Being a quizzer himself, he had already plugged The ESPN Quiz Show, developed a new format for the national game – the Premier Hockey League (PHL) – and conceptualized fabulous shows like Pehelwan (it was India’s answer to WWF, which did not see the light of the day because the channel could not find any wrestlers to match the ones offered by WWF).

Joy also planned Search for Sachin but again found no one offering the greenbacks for such an expensive project. I was instrumental in signing on Saurav Ganguly – then the skipper of the Indian cricket team – for the Samsung Cricket Show, but it sank without a trace because Ganguly, unlike Navjot Singh Sidhu or Ajay Jadeja, wasn’t charismatic on the sets. Worse, he – perhaps because of his position – remained boringly diplomatic before the camera. And what was most painful was his routine skipping of recording schedules, a nightmare for the producers. Another show, Sachin Speaks, an expensive one for ESPN Star Sports where the Master Blaster talked about his game and life, tanked without a trace, ostensibly because India’s top cricketer’s squeaky speech was not great television. Even the best of the ebullient Harsha Bhogle failed to push it up the TRP ladder.

All this increasingly convinced me that only live cricket – or anything associated with the live version of the game – was the way forward with Indian audiences. I junked football and plunged headlong into cricket.

My first experience – it was a bizarre one – with the world of cricket and cricketers came on the eve of the 2003 World Cup in Johannesburg. As we all waited in a semi-lit hall where captains of the participating teams were to be assembled on a stage and the World Cup trophy displayed, I noticed a harassed South African agent of LG desperately asking for help. He wanted a camera unit to record statements of some cricketers – he didn’t say whom he wanted – about the South Korean white goods giant, the chief sponsor for the World Cup. Everyone balked at the guy, refusing him outright. It was not news, and worse, it was for a commercial purpose. No one agreed. A few members from Pakistan television channel wanted instant cash for the work. The LG official rebuffed their demand in sheer disgust. I stepped up and offered help. The portly man heaved a sigh of relief and instantly ushered me into a hall where I could not believe what I saw: captains of the participating teams were waiting patiently for the camera unit to utter one line for LG and head for the stage. LG wanted them to say ‘For me, it’s LG first,’ I asked much more. Everyone, thinking it was for LG, happily obliged: Ricky Ponting talked about (Mathew) Hayden’s firepower and his confidence of retaining the cup; Wasim Akram said he was convinced he, Waqar (Yunus), and Shoaib (Akhtar) would rattle any team and kept on talking about the match against India (as if everything revolved around it); Nasser Hussain was convinced that Andrew Flintoff was the world’s best all-rounder; and Saurav Ganguly talked of Indian fan pressure that was huge. I was over the moon. ESPN Star Sports rocked with the scoop in its inaugural show, leaving other channels – including Set Max, the host broadcaster – wondering what had gone wrong.

Cricket started becoming a way of life for me. I trailed the Indian national selection in Australia and got to see – besides quality cricket – the other side of cricketers. It stretched from playing cricket with Steve Waugh in the streets of Melbourne, to sending a Santa Claus to Saurav Ganguly’s room, to convincing the legendary Sunil Gavaskar not to walk out of a commentary box because his wife Marshneil didn’t find biscuits on the table along with her tea.

And then, in 2004, on one such tour in Pakistan – described as historic by Indian and Pakistani politicians for reasons known best to them – I met Mahendra Singh Dhoni.

The first interview I managed was that of Dhoni. He had long hair that drew praise even from General Pervez Musharaff, and had played some fantastic innings. He shared some great stories about his life in Ranchi, an obscure town that was home to India’s largest mental asylum, and which subsequently became the capital of Jharkhand state – growing in importance because of its vast mineral wealth.

During the conversation, I reminded Dhoni of our previous interactions that had started very strangely. Interestingly, he remembered some of it. ESPN had hired an extremely fun-loving reporter from Ranchi, Goutam Das who would – almost every week –propose a story of just one, just one promising cricketer – Dhoni. Tired of seeing the same cricketer every time, I once asked Das why he was plugging this guy. Initially, Das ducked my question.

It was not that Das only chased this cricketer. His feature on young women footballers of Barauni Flag, an obscure hamlet close to Ranchi, eventually made it to global ESPN broadcast, a rare thing for journalists in India. There were others: one on how a veteran footballer, Chandreswar Prasad, and a veteran hockey player, Sylvanus Dung, were selling their medals to earn a living.

Still, the once-a-week cricketer story was unfathomable. One night, Das, probably tired of my routine harangue, shot back: ‘Please take it and do not argue, he will be a big star one day’.

‘How big?’ I shot back. ‘He will be the captain of the Indian cricket team.’ I didn’t argue.

I didn’t narrate the story to Dhoni as we talked in the presence of Pakistan’s flashy speedster, Shoaib Akhtar. Already a star, Akhtar was getting a little impatient and even threatened to leave. I quickly wrapped up my conversation with Dhoni to start the next interview with a visibly irritated Akhtar. ‘Kya bhai, hum to isey jaante bhi nahin hain. Aur aap ne hame wait karwa diya (What brother, I don’t even know this player and you made me wait for him?)’ I pacified Akhtar and merely told him: ‘Aaj chota hain, kal bara ho jayega, aapkey tarah (Today he is small but tomorrow he will be big, like you).’ Akhtar’s ego was back in its place.

As days, weeks, months and years passed, I was increasingly convinced that Dhoni was the man for Indian cricket. Years later, I visited Ranchi to track his life and times. By then, he had been made the Indian cricket captain and was riding on an all-time high. I uncovered a fascinating rags-to-riches tale that existed in the sleepy capital of Jharkhand.

No one knew Ranchi till Dhoni emerged on the scene. And once he did, everyone talked cricket and shunned hockey from a town that once produced top players like Dung Dung, the Topno and Lakra brothers and, of late, Dileep Tirkey.

Every time I met Dhoni, I sensed his steely determination. His silence never meant disrespect, but conveyed a very clear cut, no-nonsense approach. He was a man of few words. He knew the backroom politics and Godfather syndrome in Indian cricket and walked the razor’s edge with precision. No one could ever fault him because he rarely messed up. If he had to meet up with Gavaskar, he would let the legend finish his commentary and the post-match analysis, and then walk up to him. If he felt the selectors were making incorrect decisions that would adversely impact the team, then he would refuse to buckle. He, unlike Saurav Ganguly, never required the BCCI’s hand of God (read Jagmohan Dalmiya) and – till date – continues to remain supremely confident of his abilities: to lead the side and his life.

This book is actually the story of how Dhoni, the earthy boy from a simple middle-class family in Uttaranchal (now known as Uttarakhand) became a world-class cricketer and eventually led the Men in Blue.

Nothing would rattle him. He was confident when I met him first in 2004. He is confident now, nearly a decade later. When many blamed the cricketers for their patchy win over Pakistan in the semi-finals of the 2011 World Cup, he said only a ‘victory is important in a match’ and ‘the how doesn’t matter’. In a flash, he had silenced the commentator to a deafening roar from the packed Mohali stands. In the finals, when a sardine-packed Wankhade stadium exploded with joy, he quietly stepped back and allowed Sachin Tendulkar, the legend, to hog all the limelight. And then, in the dead of the night, he quietly chartered a private aircraft and landed in Tirupati to offer his hair to Lord Venkateshwara; and flew back some hours later for a photo shoot with the World Cup at the iconic Gateway of India.

In fact, Dhoni’s life and how he got into the Indian cricket team could well be a lesson for all those who want to be successful in cricket without a Godfather. Is that possible, many have asked? It is tough in Indian cricket where allegations of partisan selection routinely fill the headlines of the newspapers and television channels.

But Dhoni did it alone. His proximity to BCCI president N. Srinivasan happened after he was made the skipper, not before.

This book is his story, his true story. It does not have details of match records – the web is a great leveler for that today – except one match he played in Jaipur and the two World Cup wins.

This is a simple compilation of events – some private, some official – that actually shaped Dhoni into a cricketer, and eventually the captain of the national team. I’ve spoken to Dhoni on innumerable occasions, both in India and abroad, and have used his comments liberally in this book.

This book is for Keya and Bonny, the strength in my life, and our parents, who left us in strange circumstances. Ma embraced cancer, father embraced hypertension. This is also for Rohinton, a former colleague whom I had promised this one months before bullets fell him on 26/11 while he dined at the Oberoi Trident with a prospective client.

A million thanks also to the two Gautams in my life. One, of course, is Goutam Das, who brought Dhoni and the Dhoni story close to me and the other being Gautam Bhattacharya, the suave sports editor of Ananda Bazar Patrika, arguably one of the finest cricket writers in India who helped me understand cricket and cricketers better than anyone else. My thanks are also for Boria Mazumdar, amazing with his knowledge of the game, and Joy Bhattacharjya, friends for life. 1 A Humble Beginning

The nondescript city of Ranchi is an unlikely choice for anyone looking to spot sporting talent in India. Unlike Patiala, a small city in the state of Punjab, Ranchi does not boast of a state-of-the-art sports training centre like the Netaji Subhas Institute of Sports, nor does it have the sprawling greens of Victoria Memorial in Kolkata, the city which is home to India’s top football clubs. And most certainly, Ranchi is no Mumbai, the city which has proved to be a fertile ground for the birth of cricketing talent over several decades, including names such as Sunil Gavaskar, Sachin Tendulkar, Ravi Shastri, and Dilip Vengsarkar.

But what Ranchi does have is a cacophonous city centre named Sujata Chowk, where backfiring trucks, belching lorries, and slow-paced cycle rickshaws often create the city’s worst traffic snarls. Known primarily for being home to the country’s largest mental asylum, Ranchi continues to be a small town at heart and in demeanour, despite being elevated – much against the wishes of a vastly superior Jamshedpur – to the status of the state capital of Jharkhand.

Oblivious to the workings of the world around it, Sujata Chowk carries on at its own pace, which means that at times, you could be stuck in traffic for nearly an hour with nothing to ease your frustration. But if you are looking to meet the man who helped India’s cricket captain Mahendra Singh Dhoni clear the first hurdle of his sporting life, then Sujata Chowk is your destination.

However, finding the man in the labyrinth that is Sujata Chowk, is not easy. The market heaves with people and row upon rows of boxy little shops which are dominated by huge billboards urging you to buy the latest gadget or adopt a new soft drink to get some fun in your life. The marketplace is abuzz with activity for almost 18 hours a day, the year around. And even if the cricket pilgrim manages to navigate his way through this chaos successfully, there is no guarantee that he would get to meet the elusive man in person and, in turn get to hear from him the fascinating story of how he helped Dhoni initially and set him off on the path to greater glory.

You could easily miss him – a simple man who blends into the faceless crowd, Paramjit Singh of Prime Sports Store is not a rich businessman who decided to become a flashy patron of sport. On the contrary, he is a humble shopkeeper who has no one to help him run the small sports goods centre he owns in the busy area. If he offers you a cup of tea, it is most likely that he himself will go out and get the tea for you.

The unassuming, portly, Singh could easily pass off as Balwinder Singh Sandhu, one of India’s lesser- known cricketers whose claim to fame is the one magical off-break delivery that suddenly turned on the wicket of Caribbean Master Blaster Gordon Greenidge and gave India a vital edge in the finals of the Prudential World Cup in 1983 at Lord’s. In fact, a friend had once told Singh that if the weekly Sunday was still alive and in circulation, he could have sent his photograph along with that of Sandhu’s for the column Separated At Birth and earned the 200 rupees offered to those who were finally featured. Since his small store is not always crowded, Singh usually divides his time at the shop between watching soaps, cookery shows, and serials on Colors, Star Plus and NDTV Imagine channels and attending to customers, most of whom are mothers seeking the specialized Beat All Sports (BAS) bat. The demand for BAS bats, admits Singh, has been high ever since Dhoni started endorsing the brand.

Singh sells nearly 80 to 100 such bats every month. ‘They all want BAS bats, confident it will bring luck to their sons who, eventually, will represent India,’ laughs Singh, as he offers sugary tea in small glasses. He terms the rock-steady demand for the BAS bats the Dhoni effect.

Singh is someone who has known the current Indian cricket captain ever since Dhoni joined school and routinely played galli cricket matches with him. And though Singh may seem an unlikely mentor for one of the biggest stars in Indian cricket, he was among the first to recognize the raw talent latent in this Ranchi lad. In fact, Singh went on to play a catalytic role in Dhoni’s transformation into a cricketing hero.

It was in the mid-’90s, when Dhoni was barely 15 years old, that Singh – himself a young lad then, just a couple of years older than Dhoni – spent months persuading the Ludhiana-based BAS to agree to provide an annual supply of bats and cricket gear for a young but talented Dhoni. All cricketers, irrespective of their stature, pride themselves on possessing their own specialized kit, and Singh was keen that Dhoni should have his own kit too.

How the then young Singh, managed to pull it off is an interesting story, known to very few, even within Ranchi. Singh, from the very beginning believed in the cricketing talent of his younger friend. Dhoni, then just a kid from a humble background, was caught in the classic Catch 22 situation: if you don’t have equipment, you can’t play tournaments and if you don’t win tournaments, nobody wants to sponsor gear for you. Of course you could overcome the situation if you had spare cash lying around, which was totally not true in the case of Dhoni.

In the early years – in a way, both Singh and Dhoni were struggling: one had not even established his shop and the other had just started showing his promise in matches where records were rarely kept and where cricket balls, often in short supply, were replaced with second-hand lawn tennis balls. Someone needed to take the risk and sponsor the equipment the boy desperately needed or, some cricket gear manufacturer had to be convinced to take on that risk. Singh could not afford to become Dhoni’s patron himself, but he certainly did not want the boy to be distracted from his game by running around, trying to raise cash for his own gear. The young Singh took on the onus of securing a patron for Dhoni, oblivious to the fact that he had to get his business up and running before he could help another chase his dream.

Singh was reminded of his father’s oft-repeated story about Dhirubhai Ambani. He remembered his father telling him how the legendary tycoon had actually managed to secure his first loan from Citibank without offering any collateral. ‘I knew I had to make someone believe in me. At that point in time, I did not worry about my shop. My focus was Dhoni, I wanted him to succeed at every cost. He had to be pushed and I had this strange feeling in me that I was the only one in Ranchi who could do it wholeheartedly,’ says Singh. Thus Singh undertook the painstaking process of calling the BAS bat makers, Sumi and Ramesh Kohli, in faraway Ludhiana, almost every day to request them for an annual supply of bats and gear for the Ranchi boy he thought had a promising future. He called persistently and spoke with meticulous politeness, so much so that the PBX operator of BAS in Ludhiana would connect him to the brothers without any hesitation: ‘I told them this would be a big gamble, but a risk worth taking,’ Singh recollects.

Initially, they routinely banged the phone down on Singh. It was their way of saying a polite no. But Singh laughed off the insult. He kept on calling. Sometimes he would call in the morning, sometime in the afternoon, and often every night when the brothers were having dinner. At times, Singh would call them around midnight, only to be told by the guard that the office was closed for the day. An uncompromising Singh would not give up and resume his calls the next morning.

Once, one of the brothers, tired of the incessant calls, snapped back: ‘Bradman hai kya? (Is he Don Bradman?)’. ‘Bradman ka baap hai, Sir (He is Bradman’s father),’ replied Singh, realizing that his constant calls had now made an impression on the minds of the BAS owners.

The badgering worked. Perhaps someone had told the BAS brothers to get rid of Singh simply by giving him what he was demanding. The Kohlis laugh when reminded of the story. And Singh still believes it was his hard work that had borne fruit.

It still took a little bit more cajoling and a few more months for the final decision to be made, but eventually the Kohli brothers agreed to provide Dhoni a yearly supply of eight bats and other gear – at a one-time cost of 20,000 which they told Singh need not be paid because probably by now, the brothers were more-or-less convinced that the consignment was actually meant for some wonder kid in Ranchi. For them, it was an investment in a possibly bright future.

‘Probably, they were also tired of my daily telephone calls and wanted to get rid of me and my demands,’ laughs Singh. For him, the first battle had been won: 15-year-old Dhoni’s biggest obstacle of lacking quality cricket equipment had been overcome. Of course, the canny BAS manufacturers had specified in their contract that the courier charges had to be paid by the receiver. It was a fair sum of money for a fledgling businessman, but Singh gladly agreed to pay. He does not want the world to know how and from where did he manage to pay those charges at the time. ‘Getting the gear was important for me, as was repaying the courier charges. But you must be told the story of the cricket gear, not the story of the courier charges and not how I raised that money,’ says a modest Singh.

If you make your way across Ranchi meeting with people who know the Indian skipper well, most of them will unequivocally agree that Singh, in many ways, was the first Godfather to Dhoni. So, how come this fact is not well known across the country? Singh laughs. ‘I am not the president of the Board for Control of Cricket in India (BCCI); I did not handpick the captain. I helped a boy play quality cricket with quality gear. I am not even his mentor, not even his coach. So why would anyone know me?’ Singh is blunt in his self-appraisal. He, in fact, does not even play cricket and rarely hangs out with Dhoni when the latter is visiting Ranchi. ‘There are millions who would love to be his brand manager. I did my bit when he needed help and moved on in life. I had nothing to gain from him then, I have nothing to gain from him now,’ says a philosophical Singh.

Singh would much rather talk about the day when the courier with the cricketing goodies arrived at his shop. He was actually praying to a framed picture of Guru Nanak, the first and most sacred of all Sikh gurus, seeking his blessings and hoping that the courier would reach in time and intact.

Once the courier was in his custody, it was time for Singh to hand over the same to Dhoni. The young cricketer was called from his home. Clearly a man with a sense of humour, Singh had put a dirty bed sheet on the huge bag and asked Dhoni to sit on it and began to chat as usual. ‘We talked about almost anything and everything. In fact, it was interesting to hear Dhoni continue lamenting about how lack of cricketing gear was messing up his life. I could see that he was distracted as he looked around my shop and would occasionally remain silent. I could sense his pain, but continued to converse nonetheless. This went on for nearly twenty minutes and it was then, that I told him to take the bag out from under the sheet,’ says Singh.

A surprised Dhoni asked Singh what the bag contained. Singh kept quiet as Dhoni bent down and removed the bed sheet and saw the bag filled with cricketing gear. ‘Our eyes were wet with tears,’ is all that Singh is willing to say, his voice choking with emotion at the recollection. He says that Dhoni sat down and opened the bag, slowly checking everything one by one. It took the cricketer approximately twenty minutes to check out his gear.

It was getting dark outside and it was time for Singh to down the shutters for the day. And once Dhoni had finished checking his gear and had zipped up the bag, he looked at Singh wondering what next. ‘Yeh tera hai, ab ghar ja, mujhe dukan band karni hai (It’s yours, now go home, I have to close my shop)’. Dhoni was speechless. While knowing fully well that his friend didn’t have the cash to buy the kit, he ventured: ‘Kitney ka liya? (How much did you pay for it?)’ Singh merely smiled and hugged Dhoni.

Singh, in fact, was trying hard to control his tears. He realized he had been successful in helping his friend. He calmed his own emotions and did not weep. ‘Why would I? It was his day, as it was mine. I could have given him all the bats I sold because I own a sports equipment store but I knew he needed top-of-the-line products which I did not stock back then. I did not even have one for display. So I asked for it from someone who had it. I asked it from BAS,’ he says. As he downed the shutters and locked up, Singh turned around to take a look at his friend. It was dark now and Dhoni had already walked some distance. Singh could only make out the silhouette of a lean young boy with a heavy kit bag slung across his broad and strong shoulders. The young cricketer was heading towards the nearby rickshaw stand because the bag was too heavy to carry all the way home. ‘Ab Mahi ko koi nahin rokega (No one will stop Mahi [Dhoni’s nickname] now),’ Singh told himself. ‘I prayed after Mahi had left. I thanked Wahe Guru for helping me,’ says Singh.

At home that night, Singh ate a frugal meal consisting of rotis and vegetables cooked in mustard oil. His family already knew about their son’s dedication to his single-minded mission and its eventual accomplishment. Some of the family members also knew that if Singh had, rather than asking for Dhoni’s gear, asked for a franchise from BAS, it would have brought him and his store, both name and fame. They also realized that if he had sold the free gear to some other rich, budding cricketer in the state, BAS would not have bothered to crosscheck. But that Singh didn’t do any of that and selflessly helped a friend made his family proud.

Singh recalls that as he was about to go to bed that night, his father Gurnam Singh, walked up to him and silently hugged him close. ‘It meant a lot to me because I had felt that perhaps my family members might not like my selfless act. I realized I was horribly, horribly wrong. Now that I knew my parents wanted me to help Dhoni and – like me – very proud of the act, I also slept peacefully.’

For Dhoni, this was like manna from heaven. It meant a new life, and potentially a real chance at a career in cricket. Singh had turned the impossible into possible for him. Dhoni walked into his home and loudly summoned everyone. And then with tears in his eyes said: ‘Dekho Ma, kya mila hain (Look at what I have been given).’

Dhoni’s mother, Devki Devi looked at her son, then the cricket gear in front of her and finally rested her eyes on the image of Lord Krishna framed in the family’s prayer stand. ‘Sab uska karaya hai (The Gods have made this possible),’ she whispered. However, no one heard her in the din that had followed Dhoni’s summons. It was celebration time with samosas and homemade tea.

So did this incident turn the fortunes for Dhoni? Singh disagrees. He walks out of his shop to get yet another round of tea. He still has several Dhoni stories to share, but there is one that he wants to tell above all; the one that gives an insight into the meteoric rise of the newest of cricketing legends.

A few more customers walk in, disrupting the flow of conversation. Singh deals with them distractedly in a hurry – he would much rather be telling stories about the Indian cricket captain. He is not interested in the sales. He wants to get back to the retelling of the stories about Dhoni.

Ready with his next memory, he recounts: It was a balmy Sunday evening in December 2001 when Singh heard that Dhoni needed to take a morning flight the very next day to Agartala (from Kolkata), in order to play an important tournament. In typical BCCI style, the notice came through the offices of Bihar Cricket Association (BCA) and reached Ranchi at an inordinately late hour, leaving little time for the young cricketer to plan his journey. Getting to the Kolkata airport from Ranchi in the limited time was going to be a tough task. The other, easier alternative was to drop out, blaming the late notice. However, Singh and others felt that it would be disastrous for Dhoni.

So what was to be done? Those days there were no overnight trains from Ranchi to Kolkata. A bus would take at least 12 hours. And worse, there was no money for a big car – ideally a Tata Sumo – that could take the pressures of a 367-kilometre Ranchi-Kolkata journey on one of India’s worst highways (infested, at places, with herds of wild elephants, deer, boars, and Maoist rebels). The pressure to raise funds for the journey was high and the time short. In fact, it all had to be organized within three to four hours of getting the news.

Singh sprang out his chair and did a quick round of calling up friends. He distinctly remembers making around 40-45 calls. Twenty-five people gathered in his shop. He told everyone that it was important for Dhoni to play that East Zone match against West Zone, because the legendary Sachin Tendulkar had consented to play for West Zone. ‘This is a great chance for Mahi. He will be able to meet his childhood hero. And we, as his friends, must help him reach Kolkata. I hope you agree about the importance of this match,’ Singh told those who had gathered in the small cramped shop. Everyone agreed that Dhoni must go for the match, but wondered how would he make it? Who would dole out the dough? After all, it would cost around 5000-6000 rupees to hire a Sumo to travel to Kolkata. And – true to Indian traditions – last moment distress calls to taxi owners were being responded to with rates which were more expensive than usual.

But Singh was confident about being able to raise the money. If the situation demanded, Singh contemplated pawning his shop for a week. Meanwhile, he sent a message to Dhoni that he should pack his kit and get ready for the journey.

Dhoni, of course wanted to know how he would reach Kolkata in time when a bus journey would take a minimum of 12 hours and there were no trains. Singh cut him short and told him not to worry about the how, but to concentrate on how to handle the West Zone bowlers. Dhoni wanted to know how Singh and others were planning to organize the car. A stubborn Singh would not reply. Finally exasperated, Dhoni called some other friends to find out how Singh was raising cash for his journey but they all feigned ignorance. Singh had forewarned them, he was clear that Dhoni should not worry about car or cash. His focus should be on his game.

‘I still remember that night. While Dhoni packed his gear at home, I desperately sought money from friends and managed to drum up an amount that would at least help me book a car. The cash arrived in installments and – expectedly – was awfully inadequate. I was in a total state of panic because time was running out and we really, really didn’t know what to do to get Dhoni into that vehicle.’

Singh made some more calls. Some more friends responded and offered him cash but also told him – in clear terms – when to return the money. ‘We are not rich people. You must return the money within the promised time frame and not falter,’ they told Singh. After two hours of painstaking calling and cajoling, Singh and a friend sat down in the shop to total what they had managed to raise. They realized that the money was just enough to book the car. Half the job was done but the next half remained equally tough: in small towns in India you also have to fill fuel midway once while on a long journey. And that meant more cash. Where would that come from?

‘I was now in a tough situation. I had to start immediately (and Dhoni was waiting) but I also knew somewhere after a few hours, the driver would ask for cash to fill in petrol. So I had to – very quickly – get all the cash organized,’ says Singh.

They had to leave as early as possible because the journey was long. There was no time to lose. Singh told his friends to get ready, collect Dhoni and meet him at a particular petrol pump where the car owner would be sending the vehicle. And then, he emptied his cash box and took everything he had, even the coins. Every paisa was important for the journey. ‘I still don’t know how I managed that cash. I think I had stocked a week’s sales and not taken any money home. In fact, when I was collecting everything I remembered a host of things my family members had asked me to do. There were lots of purchases to be made for the family,’ Singh laughs heartily as he recollects moments from that night. The friends met and after eating a quick meal at a roadside dhaba they set off on the journey. As Dhoni slept in the back of the car, Singh and Gautam Gupta – Dhoni’s brother-in-law – tried hard not to fall asleep while taking over the driving wheel a couple of times. ‘We had to do it because we realized that the car owner had sent a driver who had already done some 400 kilometres and was very, very tired.’

A couple of times, they stopped the car to let speeding lorries and belching trucks overtake them, leaving them engulfed in clouds of soot and smoke. Often, they stopped to give passage to wild animals crossing from one side of the forest to the other. There were, in fact, many of those two-three-minute halts on that treacherous run. And each time they had to make a quick stop, Singh waited with bated breath in the car and prayed that they managed to get Dhoni to Kolkata in time. It was a drive fraught with tension. At times, Dhoni would wake up and ask where the car had reached, only to be told that Kolkata was still miles away. ‘I didn’t want to disturb him; all I told him was that he needed to sleep because he had a match to play. says Singh.

The bleary-eyed travellers eventually reached Kolkata’s Dum Dum Airport – having encountered loads of trucks near the city’s entry point that further slowed them – just as the sun’s rays were beginning to kiss the runway and reflect off the airport’s freshly washed tarmac. Rested and delighted at having made it, Dhoni was super active. He was the first one to jump out of the car with the cricket gear bag. He was in a real big hurry to get on to the flight that would take him to meet the legendary Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

Singh and Dhoni rushed to the airline counter. Singh stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the routine announcement over the public address system informing that IC412 to Agartala had taken off.

Dhoni – claims Singh – hadn’t heard the announcement clearly and was still walking towards the entrance. Gautam stopped him before he could show his ticket to the guard for mandatory checks.

Dhoni initially didn’t believe that he had actually missed the flight but after crosschecking a couple of times, he retreated into silence and stared at the public address system with a dazed look. Singh – who had by then collapsed near the car – went over the number of times they had had to slow down the journey, extending the drive time by almost an hour. ‘I cursed myself like anything,’ he says.

Dhoni was crestfallen at having missed the flight and eventually the match; the next flight to Agartala was only the following morning. He looked at those who had travelled with him. The heartbroken troika of Singh, Dhoni, and Gautam – sat still for almost half an hour next to the car. Singh was sure that while Dhoni must have been very upset for not being a part of the playing eleven and meeting Tendulkar, he noted with interest that the future cricket captain’s calm face refused to betray any of the tumult inside.

Singh did not have the courage to talk to Dhoni and walked away from him towards the ticket counter to change the dates. ‘I still wanted him to travel and get into the side as an extra,’ says Singh. He was very upset with himself. ‘It seemed my efforts had failed.’

As he stood crestfallen near the counter, Singh felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Dhoni. ‘Never mind, this is not the end of the world. This is not the last match,’ said Dhoni, even as Singh broke down into a paroxysm of sobbing. ‘Dekh main kuch kar nahin paya. Main fail ho gaya (See I could do nothing, I failed),’ said Singh.

‘Tu hain, isi liye to Calcutta paucha. Ab uth (You were there, that is why I could reach Calcutta. Now get up),’ said Dhoni, watched by a few bystanders.

Singh says it may have been the first, but certainly not the last of the setbacks and travails faced by Dhoni before he tasted success. But the manner in which he handled this first real crisis said a lot about his intrinsically strong character. His stoic acceptance of what young sports people would normally regard as a complete catastrophe was indicative of the uber-cool attitude would become the hallmark of Dhoni’s eventual captaincy of the national cricket team.

In fact, Singh reminds everyone about Dhoni’s reaction to the 2008 Commonwealth Bank series win in Australia under some very adverse conditions. While his young teammates sprang about the pitch in sheer jubilation after the victory, Dhoni stood still taking in their exuberance. It was a while before he relented and smiled a little: it was obvious that he was acutely aware of the fact that just three bad deliveries could have meant that the match would have ended differently with tears instead of cheers. This was India’s first tri-series win in Australia.

Dhoni later told reporters that he considered the win ‘a greater victory than the World T20’, attributing the two prestigious wins over the last seven months to a team effort. ‘The role of the captain was not the only one. The captain is one guy who gathers the pressure and then channels it to the individual player and then it depends on how that individual reacts,’ he told reporters.

‘He never overreacts,’ says Singh about Dhoni. The Indian captain is usually the epitome of calm- headedness. It is an innate strength that has stood him in good stead.

Singh is now tired of talking and wants to leave. ‘Write about these two incidents only,’ he laughs as he starts packing his bags for the day. For Singh, only these incidents – in one he succeeded, in the other he failed – matter when he talks of the man who eventually became the Indian cricket captain and led the nation to some great wins, including two World Cups.

Like Singh, Dhoni too remembers these two incidents clearly. For both, it is the effort that counts above all. 2

Tennis Ball Cricket

Ranchi, once Bihar’s second largest city, has not really been known to be a fertile ground for cricketing talent.

With the notable exception of Kapil Dev’s emergence from Haryana, cricketing gods (and their godfathers) in India have belonged to the big metros – Chennai, Mumbai, Kolkata and Delhi. Mumbai has had Raj Singh Dungarpur and N.K.P. Salve, Chennai has had M.A.M. Ramaswamy, A.C. Muthiah and now N. Srinivasan, Delhi has had its usual quota of cricket-loving politicians like Arun Jaitley, Rajeev Shukla as well as the Amarnath brothers while Kolkata had Bishwanath Dutta and later, Jagmohan Dalmiya, the man who changed the face of Indian cricket by making it a larger-than-life entity from which everyone could mint cash.

Why would then anyone care about Ranchi?

Ranchi, actually, was the backyard of Indian hockey with Punjab being the actual home of the sport. Ranchi produced hordes of international hockey players but since they played ‘only hockey’, no one – barring the local media – bothered to turn them into celebrity figures.

These hockey players came from tribal backgrounds and were groomed by Christian missionaries. Interestingly, it was mandatory for students to carry hockey sticks along with books to the schools. After three hours of teaching, the children were herded into an uneven, pebbled ground for an hour and a half of barefoot hockey. There were many who played at district and state levels, eventually graduating to national and international levels, including Sylvanus Dung Dung, Michael Kindo, Manohar Topno, Bimal Lakra, Gopal Vinghra, Birendra Lakra, and Ashunta Lakra.

The city also produced some well-known footballers in the late ’60s and ’70s for clubs in Kolkata, then considered the Mecca of Indian football. Football fame came to Ranchi via the able feet of defender Chandraswer Prasad and the safe hands of goalkeeper Peter Thangaraj. Both played for the big clubs of Kolkata – East Bengal, Mohun Bagan and Mohammedan Sporting.

Sadly, Ranchi’s three football greats don’t have happily ever afters. Prasad battled both poverty and alcoholism before ESPN Star Sports reporter Goutam Das resurrected him with a heart-rendering report that had football fans from across the country donating money. East Bengal Club also hosted a charity event in his honour and raised some funds. Dung Dung’s case was similar. Das filmed him as he was about to sell the medal he had won for the nation in the 1980 Moscow Games, one of India’s handful golden triumphs at the Olympics.

Thangaraj was not that lucky, he died a lonely death in 2008. His body was found in a room filled with dogs. Neighbours claimed that the veteran footballer, a total recluse, used to feed the dogs regularly from his meager pension.

Meanwhile, Ranchi’s contribution to cricket was limited to a lowly Ranji Trophy player. Subrata Banerjee, a pace bowler who played for India in the ’90s, was mistakenly considered to be a player from Bihar.

As a matter of fact, the state government officials (then Bihar) would rarely discuss cricket. Worse, at times, they would openly admonish some of their officials who would bring up the state’s lack of cricketing talent and argue for more funds to overcome it. Things, more or less remained the same when Jharkhand came into being. Why? Because the state was home to a number of hockey players, only their advice mattered when budgets were allotted by the state government officials.

The apathy towards cricket ran deep in Jharkhand, with even parents of school going children never arguing with schools’ sports coaches to groom their sons as cricketers.

Thus, with the sporting fraternity focused almost entirely on hockey, it was quite natural for Keshav Ranjan Banerjee, the cricket coach at the DAV Jawahar Vidya Mandir school in Ranchi’s Shyamali neighbourhood, to not expect any cricketing wonders from among his students. He, in fact, rarely discussed the willow game in the class. No one will respond, a waste of time, he often told himself.

Worse, he had standard instructions from the school principal, a die-hard hockey enthusiast, that the boys should be encouraged to play hockey. If they rebel, football could be considered. If that also does not work, the school – argued the principal – would push for badminton, volleyball, or even basketball.

Banerjee, who wanted to push cricket, did not argue. ‘I am a soft-spoken person, even if I do not like what I am being told to do, I will rarely argue. And in small towns, teachers do not have the guts to disagree with the principal,’ says Banerjee.

The principal, in fact, was happy that Banerjee did not argue.

‘I distinctly remember that our principal had a peculiar theory. For him sport was not serious and he would tell me that he was sanguine that the boys would, sooner or later drop out of sports to pursue higher studies,’ says Banerjee. ‘It is more a fitness issue in the school,’ the principal would tell Banerjee.

A disgusted Banerjee only hoped someone would push for cricket in the school. A tired Banerjee would, at times, lament to his wife, ‘I know that sometimes they play (cricket) just for fun in the school; even their parents are not interested. I also know that they will, eventually, pursue higher studies and not the sport. I am just trudging along with these kids. It’s just a job for me.’ The trained coach in Banerjee was frustrated. He had a feeling the boys were not serious, because their parents were not serious. No one in India – then – sought a career in sports for their children. So Banerjee’s job – by that count – was relatively easy. He simply had to herd the boys into the ground and get them out after a two-and-a-half hour of practice. And he did that without complaining. This thankless six-day routine of Banerjee’s continued unabated for almost a decade.

Banerjee was not happy; because he could not find talent, he could not nurture talent. He would read stories in the newspapers about coaches grooming their prodigies. He knew about Ramakant Achrekar, the man who had shaped Sachin Tendulkar; Desh Prem Azad who had groomed Kapil Dev and Madhav Mantri, the former Test wicketkeeper and uncle of Sunil Gavaskar who had shaped the Little Master’s cricketing career. ‘When will I groom a Test cricketer?’ Banerjee wondered.

His interest in training students in cricket was waning but he needed the job to sustain his family. His friends told him not to stress. ‘Why do you grumble all the time? The children are not complaining, nor are their parents. So just do your job and enjoy life,’ Ashok Mukerjee, a close friend, would repeatedly tell Banerjee.

Just as Banerjee had made his peace and was on the verge of giving up all coaching dreams, he saw a flicker of hope – a young, frail student, named Mahendra Singh Dhoni. The unassuming boy came from a humble background and when Banerjee spotted him playing football, he instantly liked his reflexes under the bar. Every evening, on returning home, Banerjee would tell his wife Maya: ‘I have seen a boy at practice. He is a very interesting character. In fact, he is very, very different from the rest. I like his dedication. But do you know my frustration? That bloody fellow is also a footballer. Wish he was a cricketer with that same dedication.’

Maya laughed and returned to the kitchen. Such conversations had become routine for her. But – strangely – when she returned from the kitchen, she found Banerjee playing music. He was happy, very happy.

Why, wondered Maya?

She at that moment did not know that her husband’s coaching ambitions had been resurrected by a genuine find.

Banerjee would go watch the 14-year-old Dhoni everyday. He would spend hours watching him under the bar and take random notes of the boy’s actions in a small pocket-sized diary. Why did he do it? ‘I had a feeling one day he would come to me and seek help and I would make him a star,’ says Banerjee. The coach was confident of Dhoni’s talent and cricketing potential, the only hitch was that the boy was still hooked on football.

When he joined school, Dhoni was an average but focused student who is said to have avoided girls. While high scores were not routine for him, Dhoni would at times score nearly 75 per cent in subjects such as English, History and Geography and feel a sense of accomplishment. He was considered a good student by his teachers both inside and outside the classroom. However, there were times when Dhoni was admonished for getting poor marks in Mathematics and Science, and his reaction was to take the feedback and improve in the next round of exams. His critics, mostly the class teacher, would – expectedly – fall silent.

Much to Banerjee’s chagrin when he went out into the playing field, Dhoni, too would not opt for cricket; preferring football because he had unusually fast reflexes to be a good goalkeeper. Naturally, he was the first choice for his school team. Sometimes, the school principal would personally come to the ground to see his favourite charge under the bar. ‘His spot jump to tip the ball over the bar was brilliant. Sometimes, it would be a simple, yet superb nudge. Often, he would acrobatically jump parallel to the ground and fist the ball over. And his diving was just out of the world, outstretched hands palming off what looked like a sure-shot goal into a corner,’ remembers an excited Banerjee.

There were others too who appreciated Dhoni’s football skills. M.K. Bhadra, another teacher who routinely visited the football ground to see Dhoni play, always encouraged him towards a career in sports. ‘He was an average boy in the class, so we left him there and did not badger him for big marks. His class teacher had a different theory but my point of view was simple. If he is extraordinary in the field, let him focus there,’ says Bhadra.

Dhoni enjoyed the freedom on the field – he was the first player to reach the football field and the last to leave. He was in love with the game. Cheered on by his classmates he would save some of the best shots with consummate ease. The teachers encouraged him to watch video tapes of legendary goalkeepers such as Lev Yashin, Peter Shilton and Dino Zoff. A patient learner, Dhoni watched the videos and tried hard to integrate their styles into his actions. It seemed to Bhadra that Dhoni was always eager to dive at the slightest pretext but after he got injured once, he had to change his stance. ‘Watch him carefully, you will see he still dives cautiously,’ laughs Bhadra.

But Banerjee had other ideas. He wanted Dhoni to shift to cricket. How was he supposed to do that? It was tough because Dhoni loved his football and showed no interest in shifting to the willow sport.

Sensing Banerjee’s desperation, Bhadra – who would routinely have a cup of tea with Banerjee after school hours – told him to give up on Dhoni.

‘I would tell Keshab that he was chasing a wild goose. Dhoni was immersed in football and loved every moment of the 90-minute game.’

But Banerjee disagreed. He would take occasional breaks from his coaching classes and visit the football ground to see Dhoni and his boys during practice and in action against local schools. It was during one of these visits that Banerjee spotted a tiny ray of hope for himself.

Banerjee noticed a negative trait – the football coach argued it was totally insignificant – in Dhoni’s game. Whenever he tried to pluck the ball off the head of a marauding forward inside the box, Dhoni would prefer to fist the ball away. Not just once or twice, he would do it routinely. He would either punch or palm the ball but not grip it. It seemed he was not ready to take any chances inside the box and wanted to keep the ball away from the danger zone. But what was wrong with the grip, wondered Banerjee.

Banerjee asked around and was told by a few players that Dhoni’s grip on the ball was not very good. Banerjee, still confused, would often ask himself whether Dhoni was struggling with the grip or whether he was struggling with the size of the ball? Would it work if he pushed him as a wicketkeeper instead? ‘In fact, it was then that I realized I had already made up my mind and headed for Dhoni’s class the next morning,’ says Banerjee. Banerjee does not clearly remember what day it was, but has a memory of walking into Dhoni’s class as the English teacher was reading stanzas out of William Somerset Maugham’s Of Human Bondage. The class was interrupted and Dhoni called outside the room by Banerjee. ‘You will do better if you shift to cricket. Why not try out wicketkeeping? I am confident you will do well. And do not worry. I will back you to the hilt. And do not think it is a joke,’ Banerjee told Dhoni.

Dhoni was transfixed. ‘Yeh to khel hi doosra hain. Dost kya bolenge (This is a different game altogether, what will my friends say),’ was Dhoni’s first, rather innocent, reaction.

Banerjee wanted to keep the discussion simple. It is all about keeping, either under the bar or behind the wickets, explained Banerjee calmly. The coach was by now doubly clear in his determination to persuade the young lad to move out of the school’s football team. ‘You must have faith in me, I am telling you this is the best opportunity anyone in the school will get. There will be no trials. Just walk into the team.’ Banerjee was confident he had accomplished what he had set out to do.

Dhoni was confused. He wasn’t clear whether he should accept the offer. Leaving the football team was something Dhoni hated from the core of his heart. One thing was clear to him. If he was out of the football team, he would lose the school colours, which meant a lot to him. And he was also not clear about the new role.

Dhoni surprised Banerjee by letting the coach know that he wanted to practice with him alone. Why alone? ‘Probably, he wanted to avoid jeers from his footballer friends. After all, no one wants a footballer to become a cricketer, especially if you were a regular member of the school team. Worse, seeking cricket over football would have meant losing whatever little stardom you had in the school,’ laughs Banerjee.

Banerjee did not want Dhoni to feel bad about making the shift from football to cricket. He assured Dhoni that he would get that special attention but he would also have to give his best to the new sport. Banerjee made it clear to his prospective student that this was not a temporary arrangement but the start of a new life, a new career.

‘I am ready sir but kindly guide me. This is a new game for me. I need your guidance,’ was Dhoni’s quick reply.

The practice sessions started immediately. Away from the glare of other students – some of whom had already jeered Dhoni for making what they called life’s biggest blunder – and teachers, Banerjee organized a series of special training sessions for the student he felt had immense talent. Dhoni was at practice every day without fail and trained with Banerjee for almost two hours regularly. After a week of conducting such sessions Banerjee was convinced that his student in fact had an issue with the size of the ball and not with the grip. Dhoni was keeping wickets brilliantly. ‘He was good, very good,’ says Banerjee.

Sometimes, Banerjee would get students from neighbouring schools to come and practice with Dhoni, at other times he would spend time showing Dhoni video tapes of some of the world’s finest wicketkeepers. ‘I could not afford to have him turn his back on cricket,’ recounts Banerjee. Soon, Dhoni’s slow but steady transformation was witnessed by both those from his school as well those from other schools who would come for practice matches. Still, Banerjee remained worried. What if Dhoni has a change of heart and walks out of the team tomorrow? Banerjee would sit down with his new student after every practice session, reminding him to take his new role seriously. Often they would hear the crowds cheering the football team playing nearby and Dhoni would look at his former teammates who would seem to be enjoying their game and getting enough support from those watching it. And that was not the case with the school’s cricket team.

Banerjee realized football was still not out of Dhoni’s mind completely.

One day, sitting on a wooden bench on the edge of the cricket field, Banerjee told Dhoni the story of Saurav Ganguly – the classy Indian lefthander who had also hoped to become a footballer before he shifted allegiance to cricket. Banerjee pointed out that people often have to make career-changing choices, but once they make the eventual choice, they stick to it. ‘You need to do the same with cricket, Mahi. This is a great game and those into it are heroes in India, you will also become one if you stick to it. Cricket has taken India to great heights, football hasn’t. You are in the right place. Do not ever think of walking out.’

As they talked, Banerjee noticed that Dhoni kept glancing at a Kawasaki Bajaj advertisement in which a motorbike morphed into a cheetah on the prowl. Banerjee pointed out to an attentive Dhoni that the advertisement was all about speed. ‘I told him he had to be attentive behind the stumps, stand in an awkward position for long hours, and be swift with stump-ins, brilliant with catches and, above all, maintain a blistering pace in batting. I told Dhoni that he will have to transform himself from an average player into a powerful man-machine. Only then he would be noticed,’ recalls Banerjee.

Those initial days of constant practice were troublesome because Dhoni while at ease with pace bowlers, grappled with the spinners whose bowling necessitated his standing close to the stumps. He was often irritated and reluctant to handle the spinners but Banerjee helped him gain the confidence and told him in a game of cricket, only a wicketkeeper is constant. ‘And he improved overnight. Once he came up to me and asked if the school authorities could organise floodlights so that he could practice after sunset,’ says Banerjee, who at that point laughed off Dhoni’s request and politely told his student that very few schools in India have floodlights for sports.

Dhoni was not happy with the reaction, he wanted to practice, practice and practice more to attain perfection. He – noticed his teachers – became a little disruptive in the class. Often, he would encourage his classmates to toss paper balls so that he could catch them in awkward positions. At times, it was extremely annoying for his teachers who routinely complained to Banerjee, but the short-distance catch practice in the class helped the aspiring wicketkeeper understand how to handle spinners on the field. ‘Where I slipped, his classmates helped. The paper balls and catching practice worked wonders with Mahi,’ says Banerjee, who would often watch the paper ball catching act from outside the class.

Soon, Dhoni’s metamorphosis from goalkeeper to wicketkeeper was complete. Now it was time to shape him as a batsman and teach him how to massacre bowlers. ‘I didn’t have to try much; actually, I did nothing to groom his batting. It seemed as if he practiced batting with someone so that he could impress me,’ says Banerjee.

Dhoni’s batting ability improved with every session. His average in school matches was 50 and centuries – especially in matches with other schools – were completed with relative ease. The bowlers would have a nightmarish experience while bowling to Dhoni and would struggle to contain him. Often he would hit the ball out of the school ground. In most cases, the ball was lost and the game called off because of lack of spare balls.

Dhoni was brimming with effervescent energy: he would pad up the moment his side was ready to bat, surprising – among others – the opening pair of the opposition bowlers who would routinely wonder why he was all ready and padded up right at the start. It seemed to many that Dhoni actually wanted to open the innings but could not muster enough courage to convey his desire to the coach.

His teammates were also surprised at Dhoni’s relentless pacing up and down in the dressing room. ‘I would repeatedly tell him to relax because he was not the opener.’ But Dhoni would not listen and would continue to pace up and down. He would look agitated. He would look restless. ‘Sir, I must play from start to finish and you must help me shape up as an opener. Otherwise, there is no fun. It is very irritating to pad up and then wait for long,’ Dhoni eventually told a shocked Banerjee.

Banerjee was flummoxed. ‘I told him to cool down and focus on his wicketkeeping and batting and not demand things which could not be granted. It’s not important to open and play from start to finish,’ Banerjee told his favourite student. Dhoni was not satisfied with the coach’s reaction. At that point he nodded in agreement and quietly walked away. However, days later, Banerjee was told by his friends that Dhoni was impressing upon his teammates to allow him to open the innings. Some initially refused but when they saw Dhoni often finishing the game single-handedly with his awesome power play, they all fell in line. Often, laughs Banerjee, the opener in the side would come up with some lame excuse of ‘cramps’ and ‘headache’ and ask Banerjee if Dhoni could replace him. Banerjee had no choice but to agree.

Dhoni’s blistering pace began during his schooldays and has stayed with him since. During a Bengal- Jharkhand match at the Eden Gardens (Kolkata), Dhoni impressed the then Indian skipper Saurav Ganguly, who was leading Bengal, from the moment he stepped into the crease. Dhoni hit bowler Laxmi Rattan Shukla all around the field. Thrice the ball had to be retrieved from outside the stadium. Shukla, already a star in Bengal, was obviously not happy with the hammering. He tried several tricks but none worked. Such was his firepower that Shukla eventually lost his temper and became somewhat abusive. The umpires noticed. Initially, they tried to ignore the slugfest but had to ultimately intervene. It did not work. Dhoni continued his big hits and every time the ball went soaring over the ropes, Shukla would swear at the batsman.

Eventually, Ganguly walked up to his bowler and curtly told Shukla that he should mend his ways: ‘What is this nonsense? Instead of losing your cool, learn a thing or two from the way he is batting. With your erratic bowling and this ridiculous attitude, you will go nowhere, but if this player can retain even half his touch, he will rule for many years.’ Prophetic words those, from a master at the top of his game! Dhoni, obviously, was over the moon. He remembered that he had never been to a cricket coaching school and never had a dedicated coach. He just had Banerjee taking some special classes every day.

‘This is something I always tell many youngsters in Ranchi who came to me to learn cricket once Dhoni made it big. If you are really good and dedicated, you actually do not need a push,’ says Banerjee.

Dhoni, who would always meet up with Banerjee during his visits to Ranchi, had not forgotten his coach’s words. He, in fact, remembered Banerjee and the techniques he had learnt from him even after his inclusion in the national team. In fact, just before the 2005 historic Pakistan tour, Banerjee learnt that Dhoni had come home to meet his parents. Immediately he went to meet his student and offer him some tips. Dhoni was pleasantly surprised and welcomed Banerjee into his home in Ranchi’s MECON colony. In fact, he himself was keen to meet Banerjee so that the coach could guide him on how to handle the awesome Pakistani pace battery.

They both talked and Dhoni was asked by Banerjee to visit a cricket ground close to his school for practice.

The next morning, when Dhoni reached the ground he was surprised to see what the coach had brought for him. Banerjee had soaked 20 tennis balls in water overnight and hardened them. It was an earthy way to tell a rising star how to handle pace bowlers.

‘Ranchi had no bowling machines, so I had no alternative.’

‘What is this for, sir?’ asked Dhoni. Banerjee’s immediate reply was: ‘Mahi, tere ko Shoaib, Gul aur Asif ka saamna karna parega (Mahi, you will have to face Shoaib Akhtar, Umar Gul and Mohammed Asif [in Pakistan]).’

The practice session went on for four long hours. Banerjee wanted his student to attain total perfection before heading out for an historic tour. Dhoni had to learn how to face Pakistan’s blistering pace as a batsman. He also had to know how to deal with typical Pakistani sledging (read taunts) while batting. Dhoni spent hours with his coach, a man who he trusted completely. He knew Banerjee knew his game the best and understood his strengths and his weaknesses on the field like no one else.

But did Banerjee have to think about Dhoni? After all, the Indian cricket team had a dedicated coach in New Zealander John Wright who knew how to groom his boys. ‘This is an unwarranted question. Beta baap ko kahbi hire nahin karta (the son never hires the services of his father).’

Banerjee told his favourite student that machines can never replace the wonders of personal touch.

Before he wraps up the interview, a by now tired Banerjee has one last story to narrate – a story that effectively illustrates how Ranchi knew what they were getting in the form of Mahendra Singh Dhoni. It – in some ways – showed the BCCI what was headed their way for the national selection from a sleepy town in Jharkhand.

It was a simple school match that not many attended, at first at least. Banerjee – knowing Dhoni’s innate abilities – asked him to open the innings with teammate Shabbir Husain. Dhoni was over the moon because for the first time Banerjee had himself asked of Dhoni what he had always desired. Having instructed Dhoni, Banerjee left the dressing room.

A few minutes later, Banerjee realized Dhoni and Hussain had not come out of the dressing room. He waited for another ten minutes. By then, the rival fielders had already walked onto the field. The openers were still not out of the dressing room. Banerjee heard some commotion and wanted to find out what was going on for himself.

And what he saw and heard was indeed bizarre. Standing in the middle of the dressing room Dhoni was arguing with his teammates that he would not pad up and play without pads. Why? Banerjee was now fuming.

‘It will slow down my pace,’ Dhoni shot back.

‘This is rubbish,’ Banerjee screamed.

‘Please sir, this is a school match,’ Dhoni was pleading now.

Banerjee agreed, realizing it was a standard inter-school match and the request had come from none other than his ‘special student’.

‘Okay. So boys, just relax. Let these two handle the day for us and Dhoni is permitted to play without pads,’ ordered Banerjee. Standing close by, Dhoni’s opening partner Shabbir Hussain didn’t know what had hit him. He walked out with Dhoni without uttering a word.

It was a day to remember.

Dhoni faced 150 balls, and cracked 6 sixes and 26 boundaries for his 213, while Hussain scored 117 off 116 balls. Every time Dhoni hit a six, the ball went out of the stadium. There were times when the umpires got irritated because the match had to be halted for more than ten times while the fielding team waited for the ball to be retrieved. In fact, the bowlers got so tired that some of them actually started complaining. Worse, some of the bowlers felt insulted and stopped bowling and had to be replaced with others who weren’t as good. That made things worse for the visiting team: the two openers put on board a whopping 378 that day.

Meanwhile, news had spread that Dhoni and Hussain were making mincemeat of the rivals. The principal of the school declared a half-holiday and told everyone to rush to the stadium.

At the end of the first day, the entire school had reached the playing ground to give the two boys a standing ovation. ‘And mind you, although Hussain looked a little fazed, Dhoni was still not tired. Everyone who talks about the Sachin-Kambli record-breaking partnership in a school league with loads of fanfare ought to know this story too. They scored over 600 in three days, right? No one knows about this match in Ranchi,’ says Banerjee. How come no one knows this story? According to Banerjee, Ranchi’s reporters at that point in time never covered school cricket matches. They still don’t. If they did, it would have trickled up into national headlines.

Banerjee rustled up a photocopy of an ordinary school match score-sheet that he always carries with him. In some places the writing is unclear as if it has been smudged with watermarks. Is this the only score sheet of that very eventful match? It is a photocopy, says Banerjee. And the water marks? Did it rain that day? No, it didn’t, Banerjee remembered clearly. And then he added: ‘This happened very recently,’ Banerjee’s tone is low suddenly.

He is now recounting the story. He had taken out the score sheet from his wallet and looked at it while Dhoni led India to victory over Pakistan in the inaugural T20 World Cup in South Africa in 2007.

And as he held the score sheet in his hands, Banerjee realized that he was weeping inconsolably and tears were smudging the score sheet. His best student had won the honours for India – he was a star, a superman, a demi-god. What impressed Banerjee most was that Dhoni gave away his shirt to a local kid. ‘Only an earthy man from a small town would do that, don’t you think so?’ he asks.

The sun has almost set in Ranchi and it is fairly dark outside Dhoni’s old school. Banerjee has again taken out the score sheet. He is quiet, pensive. He doesn’t want to talk anymore. The paper – which always travels with him in his wallet – reminds him of Dhoni’s past, and the smudged marks, his future.

The day Dhoni won the World Cup in Mumbai and India was gripped in its wildest cricketing fervour, Banerjee hopped-skipped-jumped from one studio to another in Ranchi. He returned home late to his wife and food that had turned cold on the table.

His family members say Banerjee didn’t utter a word. Perhaps he had talked enough throughout the day. He merely told them to clear the table so that he could – once again – take out the photocopy of the score sheet and spread it on the table.

‘Careful, it should not get smudged. We must frame it tomorrow and hang it on the wall,’ Banerjee told his family. But he had once promised to give it to his ace student? ‘He has the World Cup. Everyone will remember him when they talk of the World Cup in India. We have this one, everyone will know how he played as a boy when they see the frame here,’ replied Banerjee.

The framing happened the next day. Has Dhoni seen it? The Indian skipper hasn’t. When he comes to Ranchi next, he will. The 56-year-old Banerjee is still waiting in his two-room home for the doorbell to ring.

And then, there will be loads of laughter, and, possibly, four hours of fun-filled, floodlight cricket with water-soaked tennis balls. Banerjee knows Mahi will come again, probably this will be the last advice the Indian cricket captain will seek from his first coach. 3

Hard Life in Hills, Glory in Plains

Devki Devi was born and brought up in the picturesque hill town of Nainital in the north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh (now the region is part of Uttarakhand). In 1969, the petite woman – a devout Hindu – married a young Paan Singh who belonged to Talasaalam village in the neighbouring Almora district. Devki and her parents did not have many expectations from her life other than hoping that she would have the hardworking but happy life of an average homemaker.

The two had a happy marriage: they had children, worked hard and believed that their future was pretty much mapped out for them. They ate frugal meals and sometime slept under the starlit sky, oblivious to the dangers of the predatory leopards who would routinely visit the village in the dead of the night in search of livestock. The couple was happy when they had their first child, a son, on 14 May 1975. They named him Narendra after the great Indian sage Swami Vivekananda. The second child, also a son, was born on 7 July 1981. He was named Mahendra after the Great Indra, king of Gods. Paan Singh was ecstatic with joy and borrowed cash to buy sweets but Devki longed for a girl. Eventually, Jayanti was born to them in 1985. Devki was overjoyed. Her family was now complete.

However, a few years later things began to fall apart for the couple financially. Singh first tried growing potatoes in the mountains and met with initial success, reaping a good harvest for the first two seasons. The hitch? He had to walk for over three hours to take his produce to the nearest market. Both the journey and the sale were often not very profitable. There was no route by which the farmer could sell produce to a bigger market, and meanwhile the middleman who bought the produce after the farmers’ arduous 10-kilometre walk to the market, would pay a pittance to the actual farmer. There were times when Singh haggled for a larger cut but the middleman would flatly refuse. Eventually, the two split.

Finally, one day a crestfallen Singh told Devki that he was tired of being a farmer. Why, the crop is good, said Devki. No, explained Singh, a good crop does not necessarily mean good money for the family. He then asked for some tea and sat down to explain to his wife India’s middlemen syndrome that was crushing the poor farmer. As he was talking to his wife, Singh had already started thinking of alternate options for his family. The basic idea was to get away from farming and lead a more secure life through some steady earnings. What Singh was looking for was a simple, fixed hours job.

By early 1980s Singh was ready for a change. ‘We must lead a tension-free life,’ he told Devki as she prepared a meal of rice, boiled potatoes and cereal in a wood-fired oven.

Next morning, friends, who lived next door and were aware of Singh’s unhappiness with his life, came home to counsel the couple. One suggested to try for a government job. What would that be? Singh was worried that he was not educated enough to secure one and worse, it would invariably mean paying some hefty bribes to someone to even secure one. Someone suggested Singh try for a job with the State Transport Corporation. Singh said he could not be a driver because he didn’t know how to drive. But you could be a ticket collector, said another friend. Singh agreed to apply. Given his then financial situation, the option looked very lucrative.

Interestingly, Singh landed the job the very next month, thanks to some influence exerted by a local politician who, for reasons obvious, will remain unnamed. It was around 1984, and Singh initially liked his job. There was no working in the field, no blazing sun, no tensions from cloudbursts and no arduous walks to reach the city market and, above all, no middleman. ‘I had to pick up that job, after all, I had to feed the family,’ Singh said in an interview many moons later, sitting in his home in Ranchi.

But slowly problems started surfacing. Singh’s salary was proving to be insufficient to sustain his family. While, the job, which was initially contracted for just for a year, provided steady cash every month and guaranteed job security, the money just wasn’t enough. Devki could make out her husband was growing frustrated day by day, mainly because of the salary.

‘What do we do now?’ asked Devki. Singh remained silent. But there was an idea brewing in his mind that he did not share with her. He had already planned to move out of the hills and head to the plains. While Singh realized that it would be a major shift in his life and that of his family, he was sure that they were all ready for the change.

The decision to leave the hills was cemented one night when a tired Singh returned home after a double duty of 14 hours and told his wife: ‘I cannot take this anymore.’

That was a big call for the family, especially Devki, who loved the hills and was reluctant to leave the only home she knew. But she supported Singh and agreed with his decision. ‘I am with you, let’s see where destiny takes us,’ she told her husband as he spoke to friends to evaluate possible employment options in the plains.

‘He gave up farming and became a bus conductor but that also did not work out. He did not like his job. Every evening he would return home depressed. But the move to Ranchi worked. He found a relatively hassle-free job, says Devki, now sitting in her well-decorated home in Ranchi, where expensive curtains give her privacy from the crowds keen to catch a glimpse of her illustrious son.

But Ranchi was not their first stop in the plains; the family would get there much later after a couple of short stints, first in the state capital Lucknow and then later in the industrial town of Bokaro. Singh – expectedly – didn’t like the odd jobs he had in the two places and looked to friends and acquaintances for guidance. He eventually settled for an unskilled worker’s job with Metallurgical and Engineering Consultants (MECON) in Ranchi. It was 1992 and Dhoni was barely 12 and in school like his sister Jayanti. The eldest Narendra, then 18 years old, was on the verge of completing his schooling, but had already developed a distaste for studies and informed his father about his intentions of doing business right after school. When they arrived in the small dusty town, Ranchi had just two addresses of any note: MECON and the Manasik Aryogyasahala (India’s largest mental asylum). But Singh loved the town and settled down into happy domesticity with his family. It seemed to his friends that Singh had finally found luck and peace of mind at MECON where he worked tirelessly to retire in 2001 as a work supervisor. ‘Hard work, not cricket, is in our genes,’ smiles Devki Devi, as she offers sweetmeats and tea in the cool environs of her Ranchi home, while outside, scores of people stand in the scorching heat hoping for a glimpse of cricket’s wonder boy.

‘This [Ranchi] is somewhat familiar to the life we led in the hills. We found that the pace of the town was similar to that of our life in the hills. No one is in a mad rush to get things done. And what we liked was that people were friendly and they cared for each other,’ said a pleased Devki who is glad that her husband made Ranchi his final stop in search for a better life.

Crowds outside her home are not an uncommon sight, irrespective of the fact whether the couple’s cricketer son is in town or not. If Dhoni is in town and staying with his family, he routinely steps out to meet those waiting for him.

But Devki does not want to talk about her son, his career and his glamour quotient. She, instead, wants to talk about their life of hardship. Singh sits close, listening to every word his wife utters. He merely smiles every time Devki narrates a tale of hardship that the two encountered in their early years together.

Devki recounts the early days in the sleepy town of Ranchi which she hoped would be her final home. Those were tough days, she says. Singh initially worked as a pump operator and watered the roads lining the Shyamali colony that housed, among other buildings, the school where his children studied. Interestingly, his only connection with cricket took place in the last week of November 1984, when he was asked to ensure adequate water supply for the first proper turf wicket at Ranchi’s MECON stadium for a Ranji Trophy match between Orissa (now Odisha) and Bihar. That was the nearest the father of Ranchi’s most celebrated cricketer went to a game that would eventually make his son a household name across the country.

‘Why would he enter a stadium unless there is work? In fact, we never thought of cricket. After all, Ranchi was not known for cricket. Ranchi was known for hockey and nothing else. I didn’t pay much attention to my son’s cricket, despite my neighbours often talking about it in evening soirees,’ says Devki.

Agrees Singh: ‘We are humble people and even till date do not talk about our son in public. In fact, we discourage people from using his name every now and then.’ Singh means what he says. He had, sometime after the T20 World Cup win in South Africa, publicly admonished a handful of Dhoni’s supporters for contemplating constructing a temple dedicated to the India captain. ‘He is a human being, you people are making a mistake. Humans don’t worship humans. Do not make him a god. Do not construct the temple.’

Despite the family’s low profile, Dhoni’s fame and success has slowly transformed things, most evidenced by the changes in and around his home.

Shardul Singh has been a security guard outside the cricketer’s home for a while now. He is responsible for guarding, besides Dhoni and his family, his motorbikes – including one classy Harley Davidson fitted with an imported Australian battery – that stand in mute witness before the curious onlookers from Daltungunj, Netarhat and Tatanagar seeking a glimpse of Indian cricket’s latest God Almighty. ‘They are here throughout the day, and camp till late night,’ says Shardul.

When Dhoni constructed his new home and moved his family there, the crowds followed too. At times Devki peeps from behind the curtains and smiles at the crowd. It appears as if she is not sure whether to ignore the crowds or bask in this newfound glory. ‘I do not take calls when my son is at home. The phone rings non-stop. Everyone wants to see him. He cannot be at all places at all the times.’

No wonder then when he is in town, Ranchi needs Dhoni almost 24 hours a day. A minister wants him to name his newborn, priests need him to visit their temples, a football academy wants him to play a game to garner advertisements, young students save pocket money to buy garlands and worship – in the absence of Dhoni – his collection of bikes. And if that seems reminiscent of the Ramayana’s Bharat and his worship of his divine brother’s padukas (wooden sandals), it is certainly true that in India, cricket is the only pan-Indian religion and 32-year-old Dhoni is its latest anointed deity. No wonder then such adulation continues unabated in Ranchi.

Dhoni’s elevation to that of a deity in a country that literally worships its cricket superstars is not a surprise. What is surprising is the rootedness of Dhoni despite this adulation. His talent may have brought him to a place where he walks and talks with the A-listers, the Bollywood stars, the top politicians and the corporate czars, but Dhoni never seems to have a dizzy moment.

In fact, it is quite the reverse. He walks the glamour ramp with ease, perhaps because he’s always what he is, never what people think he is. His simple, grounded upbringing, with ingrained values of humility, self-reliance, a strong work ethic and a clear sense of responsibility – not to mention the ability to reach out and grab the brass ring of opportunity – is the key to his stellar success.

Singh and Devki talk fondly of their neighbours. Their families moved into the neighbourhood at the same time and the children grew together, forging close bonds. ‘It has been a long time in Ranchi. These people came around the time when we came here. So they know us well and love our sons. In fact, they love both our sons and daughter,’ says the soft-spoken Singh.

And indeed they do love Singh’s children. Their next-door neighbour Manu Chandela does not even call the Indian cricket captain Mahendra or Mahi, but Yahiya. She literally argues with all reporters for writing what, she maintains, was totally untrue: that Dhoti drank four litres of milk every day before starting his practice. ‘It was only a glassful, how can someone drink four litres? He is a cricketer, not a wrestler,’ quips Chandela, adding: ‘No one does proper research.’ She has got clippings of newspaper articles to show such ‘baseless’ writings. ‘No one made efforts to check out Dhoni. He was not a gagman for the Railways, but a simple, humble travelling ticket inspector executive (TTE) – a ticket collector – at Kharagpur. How many know Dhoni was – in fact – suspended by the Railways because he routinely missed duty schedules because he was busy playing cricket.’ No one can argue with Chandela when it comes to discussing the Indian cricket captain. She knows everything that is there to know about him – most of it first hand. Then there is 56-year old Bimla Khandelwal, a homemaker, who is in awe of the Indian cricket skipper and often meets him and exchanges pleasantries. The usually reticent, Khandelwal agrees to share an incident which shows the humility of the Indian skipper with uncharacteristic readiness. She recounts: One day, her children and their friends encouraged her to take pictures of Dhoni. The Indian captain had come home for a break and was staying with his family. In normal circumstances Khandelwal would never knock on Dhoni’s door but this one request was a special one from her children who, she guesses, must have boasted in their class that their mother knew the Indian captain extremely well.

Under pressure, she had to do what her children demanded. Khandelwal gathered ample courage to knock on the door of her high-profile neighbour and ask to take Dhoni’s photograph. Dhoni himself opened the door and welcomed his neighbour. ‘I clicked more than fifteen times, but kept on fumbling with the camera. I actually wasted nearly six, sorry, seven minutes of his time while a huge posse of journalists waited outside his home. They had come for an impromptu press conference. In fact, I was very, very nervous.’ Then, the genial Dhoni walked up to Khandelwal and told her: ‘Ma, bahut nervous hain aap (Mother, you are very nervous).’ And then, he quietly took off the lens cap. Khandelwal was stunned and everyone in the room laughed, but immediately clamped down when Dhoni gave a disapproving look. ‘She has made a mistake inside this room before a handful of you; we make mistakes before hundreds of thousands of cricket fans. And much to our discomfort, it is even replayed,’ said the Indian skipper.

And then, he asked a friend – a trained lensman – to click some photographs. Khandelwal was bowled over by Dhoni’s attentiveness and kindness. Her mission was over and she made her way home to her waiting children. There she told them, ‘I didn’t do it, Dhoni did it for you.’

But then, that’s Dhoni. ‘He will never change, even if he becomes the richest cricketer in the world. He calls me mother. He is my son, I do not like it when newspapers criticize him. He is from a small town, his heart is in the right place,’ says Khandelwal, her voice choking with emotion. The day rioters stoned Dhoni’s home after India’s World Cup debacle in the West Indies in 2007, Khandelwal told her children: ‘Go and protect the home. He is our boy.’ The children rushed out to do some damage control. They saw some cricket fans, numbering less than hundred, had gathered outside Dhoni’s new home which was under construction. The fans, claim Khandelwan’s children, had come from outside Ranchi and were not aware that the cricketer and his family did not live there. When no one came to meet them, they started throwing stones at the under-construction building. Khandelwal’s children mobilized a large number of police constables and managed to stave off the rioters.

Devki, when informed of their actions, said she was happy that her son’s goodwill was working in his absence. And she knows about the goodwill her son has earned and the weight his name carries in the town.

Missing an audience with him is sacrilegious in Ranchi. Shopkeepers and hoteliers wait for the moment when he will walk into their arcades and mothers get upset if their sons avoid their cricket coaching classes. If they miss cricket classes, they are met with laments of how will they become Dhoni? Who knows, Dhoni could visit the camp if he is in Ranchi and offer a few tips. A photo opportunity with the city’s megastar is an added attraction for the children. The craze to become a doctor or an engineer is on a low in Ranchi with everyone wanting to become a cricketer.

‘I keep telling him to keep his head and mind to the ground. He has done that successfully,’ says Devki. Consider this one. The day he reached Ranchi after winning the triangular series in Australia in 2006, the Indian skipper wanted to exit from the cargo section because he was told that fans in Ranchi had turned hysterical and were all heading for the airport to receive their star. When the flight landed, a security officer went inside the aircraft and informed Dhoni that his request for a quick departure through the cargo gate has been declined. By whom, asked the Indian cricket captain. The officer informed him that the request had come from the state Sports Minister Bandhu Tirkey. And then, the security officer added that Tirkey was waiting at the airport lounge to receive the Indian cricket captain.

Dhoni knew there was no escape. In fact, Tirkey did not wait in the lounge but rushed to the airport tarmac and pushed everyone aside to grab Dhoni by the arm. And then he told the waiting lensmen: ‘Take the picture. Otherwise, you will never click me alone.’ Nearby, the airport’s top police official made a similar request and the cameramen happily complied in both situations. Once he was freed, Dhoni walked out of the airport from the main gate. He did not want to disappoint his fans. In Ranchi, Dhoni, undoubtedly, is the man for all seasons.

The local media needs him round the clock – he is their best chance for a story, everything he does and indeed doesn’t, is copy for journalists. He is hustled by cameramen when he drives his bike, goes to visit a temple or meets friends and politicians.

And if he is not around, the media uses his name to get the day’s best story. There is hype if he wins a trophy, there’s mayhem if he messes up the show. When it comes to Dhoni, Ranchi loves and hates in extreme.

For instance, after the World Cup disaster in the West Indies in 2007, wherein India were sent crashing out of the competition after losing to Bangladesh, a handful of local cameramen bought bricks, scattered them near his under-construction home and hired labourers to pick them up. For an ordinary person, it would seem labourers working at Dhoni’s home were busy picking up bricks thrown at his under-construction home. All news channels flashed this as breaking news: Dhoni’s house demolished. In another instance, when he led India to the inaugural T20 World Cup victory in 2007, the same cameramen hired eunuchs to dance outside his house for interesting visuals. Minus Dhoni, Ranchi, it seems, has little or no news value of its own.

Even those with no connection to cricket want a slice of Dhoni’s fame. Ranchi’s sweetmeat sellers, in an apparent attempt to cash in on the popularity of the city’s celebrity son, have changed the name of all their products to boost sales: Ranchi now has Dhoni rasmalai, Dhoni rasgulla, Dhoni gulab jamun, Dhoni barfi and, Dhoni samosa. This renaming might have been singularly unoriginal and seriously repetitive, but it’s clear they did it with a motive to sell more of their products. Such is the pull of Dhoni.

Stories abound in the town about Dhoni’s 007 vehicles, his number 7 diamond-studded gold pendant that he always wears. His fetish for the number seven stems from his birth date [he was born on 7 July 1981]. They talk about his bike rides through congested roads, his extremely original hair styles, even his occasional visits to the Deoria Mata (reincarnation of Durga) temple that lies 61 kilometres outside Ranchi, and of how a mysterious girl in Ranchi once thought of offering flowers to Dhoni because she was in love but failed.

And then there is the story of how the legendary Amitabh Bachchan once cancelled his shooting at the RK Studios in Mumbai’s Chembur area and instead sought an appointment with Dhoni, who was shooting an ad next door. No, the meeting did not happen because by the time the guards at the studio Dhoni was shooting went in to inform the cricketer, Dhoni had already packed his bags and left. Thereafter, the Big B messaged him from his handset. Dhoni was surprised. He did not know the message had come from the legendary actor. He did not reply. To which, Bachchan wrote in his blog: ‘Dhoni does not reply to my messages.’ An embarrassed Dhoni immediately responded to the star actor.

Everyone across India wants to meet Dhoni. A young Jet Airways attendant says at Ranchi’s Birsa Munda airport: ‘Why don’t they rename it MS Dhoni airport?’ Has the town’s prodigal son relegated even its most popular freedom fighter into oblivion? ‘Birsa Munda is history, Dhoni is the future,’ proudly claims the attendant. He is not being emotional when he says this; he is merely being realistic.

Both Singh and Devki realize that today Ranchi is synonymous with Dhoni. Anything and everything in the town must revolve around him. Consider this: Once, a day after his arrival in Ranchi, Dhoni and his friends went to Madhuban, a well-known highway eatery on the outskirts of the city. The owners cleared the place and instantly barricaded the area but failed to handle a swelling crowd that gathered outside and clogged NH33 that connects Ranchi to Jamshedpur, and further on to Kolkata. Eventually, riot police had to be requisitioned to clear the road and a near 12 kilometre-long traffic snarl. That’s the magic of Dhoni. ‘He would overshadow even a Shah Rukh Khan here,’ says Supriya Singh, a college student in Ranchi. There is no denying that Dhoni enjoys the popularity, but it would be grossly incorrect to say that he is enamoured by such adulation. In fact, he routinely tells the local media to restrain itself and totally avoids any personal talk in public – many people are curious about why he often lands up in his sister’s flat and not in his parental home, but it’s usually to avoid excess publicity – and remains focused on his game. In Delhi’s Feroze Shah Kotla grounds for the victory celebratory function after the inaugural T20 World Cup win over Pakistan in the finals at Johannesburg in 2007, he told the frenetic crowds: ‘It is just a game, just a game. Would you all be here if we had lost the series?’ the then BCCI president Sharad Pawar, sitting on the dais, smiled and nodded his head in approval.

Paan Singh says his God-fearing son has always had a no-nonsense attitude.

Is this humility due to the fact that Dhoni is perhaps the first Indian cricket captain to have made it to this exalted status minus a Godfather? Dhoni only has his confidence and his ability. Now, his proximity to the current BCCI president N. Srinivasan has been the talk of India but – in private conversations – he has reminded many that he became the cricket captain when Srinivasan was not in that powerful position.

Cricket cognoscenti agree that Dhoni got the India captaincy almost by default: in the wake of the humiliating defeat handed out by Bangladesh in the first round of the World Cup, an upset Rahul Dravid decided to quit the job. With India’s one-day fortunes at a nadir, no one seemed to want the captain’s cap. Tendulkar, the selectors’ first choice for the top job, had indicated his unwillingness – he has never wanted to lead. When he was made the captain, Tendulkar had happily accepted the mantle but when he resigned, he had said that the captaincy – and its numerous pressure points and responsibilities – had severely impacted his batting.

Dhoni, as vice-captain of the national team and the T20 captain, was the natural choice for the job. There was also a bit of TINA (there is no alternative) factor at the time. However, Dhoni had no cricketing pedigree, no formal training, and no serious godfather propelling him forward.

But those exact negatives soon converted into positives. He came with raw talent and drive, a humility that his simple background had hammered into his soul, and an ability to handle the rough better than the smooth.

No one really knows what makes Dhoni stay cool in the worst of times. His schoolmates claim he was always like that. ‘He initially played football, and did brilliantly as a goalkeeper. Then he played cricket and you know what he has become,’ says Subhas Yadav, who went to school with him. Yadav adds that Dhoni was quiet in class, but explosive in the field. ‘He was a game changer.’

His parents were aware that their son became a star minus a hand of godfather. So they turned towards the real God, and sought his hand for support. Their neighbours in Ranchi point out that every time Dhoni goes for a tournament, Devki Devi sits for hours before a small idol of Lord Krishna – it’s her most personal space in the house – and prays for her son. Devki is confident that India’s supreme god Vishnu will always support her son.

‘My son has brought fame and wealth to my home. Earlier, MECON officers would not even speak to him because of my grade. Today, every time India wins a one-day international, I get flowers and sweets from the general manager. Sometimes, the general manager comes home. This means a lot for a family like ours,’ says Paan Singh. ‘It happens only because I am Dhoni’s father. Otherwise, MECON GMs do not distribute flowers and sweets to every MECON employee in town.’

What makes the enigmatic Dhoni tick? A simple, down-to-earth attitude works wonders for the Indian cricket captain. The parents’ simplicity had an interesting rub-off effect on the son. Dhoni does not have too many flunkies following him, just his wife and a very small group of friends and family members. He rarely parties and barring cricket and motor bikes, nothing interests him much.

Take for instance the fact that despite all the hoopla, the publicity and the endorsements, very little glitz and glamour is associated with Team India’s captain. Even those from the lower strata of society find him an attractive icon, mostly because they feel he has a positive attitude and cares for the poor and because he himself belongs to very humble background, he has the power to change things for the better. Even the nuns at Missionaries of Charity adore him for his philanthropy, as do the doctors who run the country’s biggest mental asylum in the heart of Ranchi. If you can get Dhoni to visit your centre, there are ample chances that donations will follow instantly. ‘You need him to create awareness among people about issues like mental diseases, leprosy and so many social challenges the state faces every day,’ said Dr. Amitabha Chowdhury, head of the Ranchi Manasik Aryogyashala. Most people in his home state also remember – with pride – how Dhoni returned the 5,00,000 cash prize offered by the state government: he wanted it to be spent on the town’s dilapidated roads instead. He has already got land from the state government to shape his cricket academy where children will be offered training, at subsidized rates, under the guidance of Indian and international cricketers.

Not just the citizens, but even the gods love his visit to Ranchi. Every visit of his makes the sacred cash chest at the ancient Deori Mata Temple in Tamar block of Ranchi district, richer by a few thousand rupees and the beggars sitting on its stairs happier by a few hundreds. ‘He has a heart of gold. He has given me a handset on which he calls every time he wants to visit the temple,’ quips Manoj Panda, a priest who personally helps the India captain offer prayers. And then he adds: ‘I always pray to Deori Mata for his continued success.’

At home, Dhoni brought his elder brother Narendra back from Almora, and asked him to supervise the construction of his new home and handle other projects. That is his way of engaging his family members in his success. Those close to him say Dhoni’s intervention actually helped resurrect his brother’s fledgling career as a real estate consultant. But Narendra who failed to utilize the opportunity, gave up his business, joined the Bharatiya Janata Party and eventually left that for the Aam Aadmi Party.

Family insiders claim Dhoni also helps, whenever he can, his brother-in-law Gautam Gupta who is into the surgical instruments business. In fact, it was Dhoni’s intervention – he spoke to those who run the state’s medical business – that helped turn Gupta’s business fortunes.

Dhoni’s advisors and brand managers warn him against being too low profile. Arun Pandey, who manages Dhoni’s marketing agency, Rhiti Sports, feels the Indian skipper needs to be a little more outspoken and frank. But in the next instant adds, ‘Perhaps he does not need all this because he is confident of himself and his game.’

The personal website of India’s publicity-shy cricket skipper took ages to come up. Google and Yahoo searches about his career don’t yield a lot; Wikipedia and Cricinfo are a little better. Till mid-2009, even after he had been the skipper of the Blue Billion Express for more than a year, won the 2007 T20 world cup and topped IPL season one’s player auction at USD 1.5 million, there wasn’t a single profile of him on the web.

None of that troubled the man himself. ‘I have never been too bothered about marketing myself. I love to remain rooted to the ground, my game and a handful of my friends,’ says Dhoni, adding: ‘Honestly, it does not matter to me. I have loved staying away from the big media hype that routinely swamps the cricketers. I don’t think it is good for my health.’

Ranchi’s most sought-after man loves his home and is proud of his heritage. He wants to remain rooted to his origins and everyone is loving it – in Ranchi, and elsewhere in India. 4

First Job Blues

The Indian Railways is the world’s largest employer. It has over 35 million people working for it, including part-time employees. And almost each one of these 35 million will admit that the job comes with its own peculiarities.

Each time a new minister takes charge of the railways portfolio, a new set of trains are announced – mostly to the home state of the said minister – and a new set of people join the unique public sector undertaking (PSU) to do all kinds of oddball jobs which could range from maintaining files on pensions for an estimated 750,000 widows to marking wagon space every evening before clearing overnight goods trains for the morning journey.

The fact that the job could be peculiar in nature is never specified on the appointment letter issued by the Indian Railways, but the reality of it is palpable from the moment one walks into any department of the railways anywhere in the country. So what is the peculiarity of working with the world’s largest employer? There are people who join the PSU immediately after a new minister has taken office. They hardly do any work and their appointment letter – it is a fact – specifies nothing. There are people who have worked for decades without shaping their careers (read low promotions) but are happy because the appointment allows them to do odd-ball, part-time jobs. And there are others who hardly come to office, yet collect their salaries meticulously on time.

Some call it the laze of satisfaction (pun intended) that the job guarantees, especially for the lower- rung and middle-rung staff. They do not go anywhere, rarely change their jobs or seek transfers. They love the unique security that comes with a government job in India.

Pray why? The guarantee of life-long employment frees up a large majority to maintain parallel careers that range from being an insurance agent to a sari seller. And their operations – all within the precincts of the railways office – are indeed mind-boggling. Every morning these staffers walk into their office late and – within hours – get busy with their personal work (read business) as if there was no tomorrow. Rates of saris are discussed – often in loud tones and festive moods – with interested buyers. Others meanwhile cajole colleagues into buying cigarettes and sweetmeats. The rates offered are of course, lower than the market rates since sales are confined to the staff. Nearby, those acting as part-time insurance agents openly discuss monthly or bi-monthly premium payments with existing clients and desperately seek addresses of new clients.

The parallel business continues briskly throughout the day even as ‘official’ work continues at a snail’s pace. This is a peculiar life that many railway officials lead with the full knowledge of their seniors. No one complains, and no one does anything to anyone to stop this unique, part-time trade.

In 2001, Dhoni was Ranchi’s budding cricketer and most definitely not cut out to be a typical railway employee. He was not the kind of person who could have been slotted into any of the usual – or even unusual – categories of railway employees. He was obsessed with cricket, it was his life, it was his everything. His reaction to the job offered by the Railways was expected: he hated it. However, he had no option but to accept it, mainly because he was unable to find a job in Ranchi. He had to go to Kharagpur in West Bengal and accept the job that had come to him through the sports quota. Satyaprakash Krishna, Dhoni’s Jharkhand teammate, had introduced him to the then Divisional Railway Manager (DRM) of Kharagpur, Animesh K. Ganguly, with hopes of getting him a job.

Ganguly’s wife, Shubhra, now a widow and a resident of Kolkata, fondly recalls: ‘My husband was looking for a keeper-batsman for the South Eastern Railway team and it was then when Satya brought this boy to our bungalow in Kharagpur and introduced him as a promising player.’

Sporting a creased T-shirt, Dhoni pleaded with Ganguly for a job and was taken to the SERSA stadium and made to face 60 deliveries to test his batting prowess. As usual, many of the deliveries went flying over the boundary. New balls were requisitioned thrice. Eventually, railway officials supervising the batting test intervened and told Dhoni to stop. The young cricketer was recruited as a ticket collector.

Dhoni’s friends were overjoyed. While everyone was celebrating with Cola in plastic cups, few noticed Dhoni ask a friend – he will remain unnamed here – a strange question: ‘Agar ticket check karunga toh cricket kabh khelunga (If I am checking tickets when will I play cricket?)’ His friend did not want to depress him and replied, ‘Pehley cricket, fir ticket. Mauka poora milega. (First cricket, then ticket. You will have all the opportunity).’ Back in Ranchi, Dhoni’s parents were overjoyed to read his appointment letter. His father, wept with joy when he saw his son land a government job, thanks to his cricket. ‘Tere ko sarkaari naukri mil gayi, aaj main bahut khush hoon (You have landed a government job, I am very happy),’ he said, embracing his son.

But the father was unable to read his son’s mind. Dhoni was happy for the moment, but he was most certainly not over the moon with his first job. At a party celebrating his new job, everyone was jubilant except Dhoni. What will I have to do now, he asked his Ranchi friends? And the friends explained casually that since his job was that of a ticket collector he would have to leave Ranchi immediately – which Dhoni hated instantly – and stay in Kharagpur, home to the country’s first Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) and also the world’s longest railway platform (1072.5 metres).

Ranchi’s rising star was not impressed by the engineering college-longest platform combination, especially when it could mean taking time away from playing cricket. ‘Mere cricket ka kya hoga? (What happens to my cricket?)’ he repeatedly asked his friends. No one heard him in the din. Can we talk? Dhoni was desperate for an answer. No one responded. The party was in full swing.

In all the literature, academic and otherwise, about the Indian Railways, it is difficult to find an explanation for the decision to build the world’s longest platform in a town that – even now – has little to offer to the nation other than its engineering college. ‘Barey platform se chhote sheher ka kya hoga (What would a big platform do for a small town?)’ Dhoni asked his friends. Again, no one replied. They were just happy that Dhoni had a sarkari job. No wonder then that the slow pace of life in Khargapur bored Dhoni to death. He disliked the job right from the first day. He was a man who loved his blistering pace, cricket, and big scores. He was a young man with abundant energy which was not being channeled. For him trudging along at a ticket collector’s snail-like pace in Kharagpur was difficult, very difficult. It seemed someone had pushed him into a near helpless situation.

As a result, the young Dhoni would routinely bunk office and travel back to Ranchi – often in the dead of the night – to be with his friends. But when he was unable to sneak away from Kharagpur, some of his colleagues remember seeing a very pensive and lonely Dhoni walk by himself on the platform in the evenings and nights, obviously wondering how long he would have to remain in Kharagpur. ‘Can I return to Ranchi?’ he asked his seniors almost every month and received an emphatic ‘No’ as a reply each time.

But he had to stick with the job to keep his cricketing dream alive. Only the Indian Railways had offered him the much needed job, thus leaving what his father – and other family members – considered the world’s best job was out of the question. Dhoni tried hard to fit in and be happy, despite the fact that it was incredibly tough for him as there was nothing except cricket on his agenda.

He shared a room with Robin Kumar, the South Eastern Railway team captain, and another friend, Deepak Singh, both of whom loved their respective jobs and Kharagpur, a fact that further depressed Dhoni. He would often feel homesick and his boss Ganguly caught on to the fact. In a bid to boost his confidence, Ganguly offered Dhoni mental and emotional support and started calling him home for meals.

‘This is the best way to get him out of his disappointment and save his cricket,’ Ganguly told his wife, Shubhra.

Soon, Mahi became a part of the Ganguly household. He would come to their lawns every morning with fellow cricketers to practice at the nets there. Between 2001 and 2003, Dhoni was a regular at the DRM’s dining table. ‘Being a simple guy, he would be happy with whatever he was served,’ says Shubhra. There was Lakshmi, Ganguly’s daughter, who would put oil in Dhoni’s hair, wash it with water and – actually – comb his hair. For her, he was the bade bhaiya, the elder brother.

But once he returned to his one-room apartment, Dhoni would look lost. His two roommates realized this and offered a very interesting alternative to ease him out of his homesickness: a daily game of tennis ball cricket. ‘Tennis ball cricket, what is it all about?’ asked Dhoni, seeing a ray of hope in his desolate life in Kharagpur.

Interestingly, the game was a life changer, both for Dhoni and the town where matches were played on 18-yard pitches (as compared to the standard, 22-yard pitch). Various teams would plan daylong or floodlit tournaments and the matches would generate tremendous enthusiasm in various neighbourhoods. Dhoni – initially unsure about tennis ball cricket – eventually walked onto the field when a local politician urged him to play a match. Success was instant. Dhoni’s talent was visible from the very first match, with him blasting deliveries all over the field. Since then, there has been no looking back for the boy from Ranchi. He would play almost every alternate day of the week and enjoyed hitting the ball all over the ground. ‘It’s a tennis ball match, after all,’ he would laugh to himself.

There were some matches where Dhoni was paid small amounts of 400 to 500 rupees by the organizers, and there were others where he picked up a silver cup or two. Interestingly, these matches were watched by Kharagpur’s local politicians who admired Dhoni’s batting and would always chip in their contributions at the end of the game. Dhoni, expectedly, was never reluctant to play the matches. ‘It helps me forget my duty (as a ticket collector). After the match I get a feeling there will be another match the next day and I will not have to go back to do that job,’ he would often confide to his roommates.

They agreed. The more you remain in the game, the better are your chances of being picked up for the big, 22-yard matches, they told Dhoni.

With cricket back in his life, Dhoni was in his element. He first showcased his leadership skills when, on a balmy day in the fall of 2002 – his team, Durga Sporting, encountered trouble. Dhoni’s club was in the final of a six-overs-a-side tennis ball tournament being played at the Golkhuli Ground and was bowled out for just 30 runs. The rivals were cruising happily when an umpiring controversy erupted over a boundary.

‘The match was all but lost, we decided to walk off in protest. And we thought walking out will make us heroes,’ recounts Satya, member of Durga Sporting. At this point, Dhoni intervened and pulled everyone back. ‘Why walk out like cowards over an umpiring decision. Let’s fight, let’s give all we have in this match. Just remember, we have to bowl well and field better,’ Dhoni told his teammates.

He then quietly asked for the ball. Soma Rao, the Durga Sporting wicketkeeper, recalls: ‘He bowled brilliantly and had the rival batsmen in all kinds of trouble. I still feel his deliveries thudding into my gloves behind the wicket and the rival batsmen all at sea.’

Durga Sporting managed to tie the match and then win it through the flip of a coin. That was, in some ways, the first on-the-field miracle of the cricketer who would eventually be the Indian cricket captain.

So it was in the sleepy little town of Kharagpur, while playing many games of tennis ball cricket that Dhoni developed his trademark shot, which has often helped India win many crucial matches, at both home and abroad. Termed the Dhoni Lappa or Helicopter Shot by his friends, the shot involves virtually digging a yorker – it is a whipping shot – over the mid-wicket boundary on to the stands. When he first started hitting the shot, his friends warned him. This is not traditional, textbook cricket, they argued. ‘Come on, does anyone care as long as runs are coming on the board?’ argued Dhoni. For him, the shot was an innovation of a friend, Santosh Lal, and would stay with him for the rest of his cricketing life. The friends still argued against it. But later, when they saw that Dhoni had made it a part of his repertoire and was using it to great success, they eagerly waited for the shot. Kharagpur – expectedly – was happy about his lappa shots, ostensibly because it brought great wins which they loved. In short, the man from Ranchi was the most sought after in Kharagpur for masala cricket. Dhoni was now a different man from the one who had initially been forlorn and lost in Kharagpur. He was loving every moment of his stay here. Fast-paced cricket and the excitement that accompanies it, was back in his life. And his unorthodox shot had made Dhoni a household name in the sleepy town.

‘He would never give up,’ says Siddhartha Chatterjee, under whose captaincy Dhoni played for Sangha Shree, another local club of Kharagpur. And the affable Dhoni, recounts Chatterjee, would not charge a rupee while playing for either Durga Sporting or Sangha Shree, grateful that they had brought cricket back into his life in Kharagpur. But Dhoni charged all other clubs 2000 rupees per match, making him the most expensive tennis ball cricket player in Kharagpur.

When there was no cricket, Dhoni and his friends would spend long hours chatting on the platform of Kharagpur railway station. Sometimes they would go there in the evenings, sometimes even in the dead of night. Once, he and his friends borrowed some big bed sheets from a neighbour and covered themselves to spook the night guards on the platform. It was a full moon night, and the guards – in their usual relaxed mood – were playing cards. And suddenly they saw those six figures in white. They panicked, screamed and ran, leaving their bags and firearms behind. The next day newspapers carried the report of ‘platform ghosts’ and an inquiry was initiated. And once it was found that someone had played a prank, the railway officials quietly dropped their probe. Lucky for Dhoni and his friends, the railway officials could not track ‘men behind the prank’. It could have been serious, ostensibly because one of the guards developed chest pains on seeing the ‘ghosts’.

But not everyone in Kharagpur was happy; they cared two hoots for Dhoni’s lappa shot. Unfortunately for Dhoni these were the very people who were his seniors in the Railways. They were the ones who routinely tracked Dhoni’s missing duty hours and made it a sticking point so that they could grill the young cricketer about his absence whenever he would walk into the office. Initially, Dhoni tried hard to downplay the crisis, often lying through his teeth, and hoping that the harassment would stop. But when the pressure became intolerable, an exasperated Dhoni asked his seniors: ‘Why can’t I work for the Railways from my home city?’ That will not work, retorted his seniors.

That meant Dhoni had to work full five days of the week and bid farewell to his beloved game.

The seniors meant what they said and kept a close track of Dhoni’s movements. There would be times when some flunky of his bosses would casually walk up to his room to see whether or not Dhoni was in Kharagpur. At times, confided Dhoni to some of his friends, that the stalking was becoming a little unbearable. Yet, Paan Singh would not let his son leave the Railways. Dhoni was going through hell but couldn’t do anything about it. ‘I am caged. No one wants me to leave Kharagpur,’ he once told a friend over the phone.

But things eventually changed. Dhoni got a chance to get out of the city when he was called for the trials for the selection of the Railways Ranji team in Delhi’s Karnail Singh Stadium in the summer of 2002. Dhoni was overjoyed. The time had come for him to leave behind the small town games and head out towards better and more challenging cricketing pastures. His friends claim that Dhoni was as thrilled as a school kid when the train moved out of Ranchi and headed towards the Indian capital. But the trip turned out to be a nightmare. The Delhi trials, by all means, were an unmitigated disaster right from the word go. Many called it a ‘mere eyewash’. Being from a small town, young Dhoni didn’t like Delhi at all. For him, it was a city without any warmth and lacked the emotional touch that’s common in smaller towns. Not many in the hotel, where the team stayed, spoke to Dhoni who – a day before the match – spent his time wandering in the huge Connaught Place shopping complex. He had – in his mind – come to the capital to escape a mundane life of mediocre cricket and yet he felt terribly homesick.

When the game started the next day, lady luck was most definitely not smiling for Dhoni. The selectors seemed to have some pre-conceived notions about him. It seemed to Dhoni that all of them were convinced that he was a hopeless case because his batting made absolutely no impression on them at all. Probably, they had made up their minds about someone already. And there was no way the selectors would have asked him to have a go with the ball. However, they did tell him that he was good behind the wickets and was asked to keep by one of the selectors, but only for two overs. A friend who told him about the selectors’ benevolence in offering those two overs also told Dhoni that he had been rejected. ‘But they did not allow me to play for long,’ was Dhoni’s feeble argument. ‘Don’t argue, they are cricket selectors. In India, you should always treat them as Gods,’ was the cautious yet stern advice.

Back in the dressing room, he wondered whether the world’s richest cricket board should develop a system of telling the selectors to change their method of gauging talent in short spans of ten to fifteen minutes. Dhoni knew that the procedure was faulty and was very tempted to argue but could not muster enough courage. No one argues with a cricket selector in India, he remembered his friends telling him before he’d boarded the train for Delhi. A crestfallen Dhoni returned to his room, eventually going back home in total despair.

Back in Ranchi, he sat down to narrate his Delhi experience to his friends: ‘I do not know why I was neglected so badly at the trials. Do selectors expect miracles from every player? Can someone perform brilliantly right from the word go? Why are they so impatient? There must be a way forward. There must be a way to change things. The selectors must change their mindset. Otherwise, people from smaller cities will never get a chance to get into the national selection. Cricket in India must grow with contributions from all states.’

There is nothing on paper to prove this one, but the Delhi trials perhaps upset – and possibly disgusted – Dhoni so much, that he started hating his job with the Railways even more. He started avoiding going into office for days, weeks and ultimately, for months. He told his flat mates that he would have resigned right after the debacle at the trials but for his parents, who were against losing the security of a government job. At times Dhoni would not visit Ranchi lest he wound up arguing with his father about leaving the job. Paan Singh, who had already had a number of run-ins with his son over the issue, finally asked his wife if she could intervene and prevent Dhoni from leaving his job. ‘Usko bolo yeh sarkari naukri hain (Tell him it is a government job),’ Paan Singh told his wife. But the words had little bearing on Dhoni who seemed determined to quit his job at the first given opportunity.

Matters came to a head in mid-2004, when the Railways top brass – in an attempt to teach Dhoni a lesson for not attending office – issued him a show-cause notice. Dhoni did not reply. It seemed the time had come for the showdown with his seniors in Kharagpur. Eventually, the Railways fired him from the job and far from being repentant or contrite, Dhoni heaved a sigh of relief.

For him, the sacking was a blessing in disguise. Confident of his career in cricket, he threw the crumpled letter in a corner of his room in Kharagpur and headed back home to Ranchi.

Though his family was upset with the decision, Dhoni was not worried. One evening he walked into the living room of his long-time friend Goutam Das, an ESPN reporter in Ranchi, looking for advice. Das, his wife, Sonali (the chief of bureau of the Ranchi edition of the Times of India) and their daughter could see tension writ large on Dhoni’s face.

Das told him not to worry and instantly called his friend, Surya Narayan Bhattacharya, general manager (personnel) with the state-owned Indian Airlines (now Air India) and asked him to consider Dhoni as a brand ambassador for Indian Airlines. Das was confident that the request would not go unheeded. And there were reasons for his thinking so. Bhattacharya, who had majored from the Xavier’s Labour Relations Institute in Ranchi, knew and liked Dhoni and had often discussed his possible employment with the state-run carrier. But sadly, Bhattacharya could not offer good news: ‘Ektu aagey boltey parley na, Shib Shankar Pal ke jey sign korey felechi (Couldn’t you have called me a little earlier? I have just signed Shib Shankar Pal).’

‘See, we all told you not to worry. That he was thinking about you shows that you were on his radar. If we had called Surya a couple of weeks earlier, he would have dropped Pal like a hot potato. It is not his fault, the delay was from our side,’ Das told Dhoni. For Das, the message was clear: Dhoni was being noticed by the corporate world.

It took some time but, finally, Dhoni had his day. For one reason or another, the Indian selectors had been unable to finalise a permanent keeper for the national side for close to four years, indulging in a strange game of musical chairs with a host of them. Rahul Dravid replaced Nayan Mongia after the latter was injured in the 1999 World Cup and Syed Saba Karim could not run the show for long because he was also plagued by injuries. Dravid managed the show till late 2004. Vijay Dahiya, Ajay Ratra, Deep Dasgupta, Parthiv Patel, and Dinesh Karthik all took turns keeping wickets, even as Dhoni waited in the wings with bated breath. Yet, the selectors – for reasons unknown – continued to ignore him.

It wasn’t until September 2004 that he was picked as the second wicketkeeper after Karthik, for the India ‘A’ team’s ODI tour of Zimbabwe and Kenya. Midway through the series Karthik was called to join the national ODI team headed for the England series and Dhoni got his India colours against Zimbabwe. He won the day for India by scalping 11 victims in the one dayer (seven catches and four stumpings) and creating a record (though he shares it with two others). He also quick fired 45 runs off 48 balls.

Thereafter came the one day tri-nation tournament in Kenya involving India A, the hosts and Pakistan A, which was to become the stepping stone for Dhoni’s eventual national recognition. Still, he wasn’t madly successful: in the opening match, India, under the captaincy of Sairaj Bhautule, lost the match by 20 runs. Dhoni, an opener, scored a paltry 8 runs.

But Dhoni was in his element as India walloped Pakistan in the next match and won by four wickets. His 70 runs helped him win his first Man of the Match award. They notched another victory in the next match, this time by ten wickets against the hosts. Though Dhoni was not required to bat, he was content with four catches and a stumping.

He scored his first international century in the same series when, on 16 August 2004, he smashed 120 off 122 balls (ten boundaries and two sixes) along with opener Gautam Gambhir, who also scored a century. The two put on 208 runs for the second wicket – from just 192 balls – and helped India amass a winning total of 330 against Pakistan who collapsed for just 209. In the last match before the final, India again beat Pakistan by eight wickets. Dhoni, who had scored 119 not out, with nine fours and five sixes, overshadowed Pakistan skipper Misbah-Ul-Haq’s 106. India won the final, again against Pakistan, by six wickets though Dhoni could score just 15 runs.

But he was on a high.

The boy from Ranchi now had the selectors’ attention. They took a good look at Dhoni and decided to include him in the Board President’s XI in Jaipur against the South Africans who came immediately after the departure of the Australian team. Dhoni did his bit to keep himself in the headlines. He kept well and scored 39 in the only innings in which he batted.

That Dhoni was on a roll became evident when he replaced Karthik when India went next door to Bangladesh for a Test and ODI series. Though he muffed his first show at the MA Aziz Stadium in Chittagong (run out for nought), India won the day by a bare margin of 11 runs. The second ODI turned out to be a nightmarish experience for Dhoni as India – with Tendulkar, Dravid, Harbhajan Singh, and Irfan Pathan being rested – lost to the hosts who were otherwise known as cricket’s favourite whipping boys. India, however, won the third match and the series 2-1. Dhoni faced just two balls in India’s huge total of 348, one of which he sent out flying over the boundary for a glorious six.

Thereafter, two things happened almost simultaneously. Skipper Saurav Ganguly told the selectors that he would persist with Dhoni for the ODIs and Karthik for the Test series. ‘Having Dhoni for the ODI makes sense for the team because he has the pace. We need such firepower and Dhoni is matching our expectations as a middle-order batsman. He is equally brilliant behind the stumps,’ Ganguly told reporters in the presence of John Wright, the team coach. A month later in Dhaka, Wright told journalists covering the Bangladesh series that they were actually seeing a person who had all the capabilities to one day lead the Indian cricket team. ‘He will soon mature into one of India’s finest players. I would say he has all the potential to become a team leader. He understands his game well and understands his teammates,’ quipped Wright.

Many in India heard Wright loud and clear. And among those who saw the writing clearly on the wall were senior officials of Indian Railways, Dhoni’s first employers. They didn’t want people to know that they had sacked Dhoni because he wanted to play cricket. Instead, they wanted to tell the world that they were his first employers and that Dhoni would soon be with them. In short, they were desperate to sign Dhoni, this time on the cricketer’s term.

But Dhoni was abroad. The Railway officials waited for the cricketer to return from Bangladesh. Once he was home, the officials knocked at his door at the MECON colony home with a contract letter. This time, their offer was unconditional: Dhoni need not attend office or sign papers, but just play for the Railways team on a salary that would be five times the amount he once earned as a ticket collector. ‘You don’t have to do anything, sir. Just play and go home. You can lead the side, do anything you want but since you started your career with the Railways, it’s quite natural that you must come back to us. And we have all the right to seek your services. I am sure you will agree,’ pleaded Gyanendra Singh, a senior general manager even as Dhoni sat quietly. The Railway officials had a feeling that Dhoni would refuse the offer. So they coaxed Paan Singh and pleaded with him to push his son to rejoin his first employer. Singh, who had always maintained that he wanted Dhoni to have a government job, asked the Railway officials to wait outside and turned to his son. And then he said to his son: ‘Unko bolo jaane ke liye (Tell them to go).’ Dhoni walked out and turned his back on this ‘very generous’ offer. Those close to him say that the Delhi trials, where he was treated unfairly, were uppermost on Dhoni’s mind.

But there was a downside to the rejection. Now, Dhoni was without a domestic team. However, he was confident of another offer coming his way, which did finally come but towards the end of 2004, when Das again got a call from Bhattacharya.

This time, the general manager of India’s biggest airline network had already received a call from the office of Praful Patel, the then Union Minister for Civil Aviation. In fact, Patel’s all-powerful secretary, Ashok Aggarwal, had called Bhattacharya and asked him to sign Dhoni without any delay. ‘I have already got the clearance for our friend. We are waiting for him. Do I come to Ranchi or will Dhoni come to Kolkata to sign the papers?’ Bhattacharya was brimming with excitement. So was Das.

Dhoni was called over to Das’s house almost immediately and the message conveyed. Dhoni was elated and asked Sonali to prepare some kheer, his favourite sweet dish. As Sonali went inside the kitchen, Dhoni hugged Das. Hours later, he ate the kheer and left as he had come, quietly.

‘Any other cricketer would have made a mega announcement. See he didn’t tell anyone. Hope he continues to keep things simple in his life,’ remarked Sonali as the couple walked up to a framed image of Shirdi Sai Baba on the living room wall to pray. They thanked the almighty for all he had done for Ranchi’s most promising cricketer. 5

The Buck Stops Here

All those involved in the willow game in the subcontinent – including those who play as well as those who follow it from outside the boundary – will agree: No meeting of India’s cricket selectors is free of surprises. Idiosyncrasies have been their forte for generations. They have time and again messed up the selection and gotten away with it as if there were no tomorrow. They have picked favourites, ignored classy players and even pushed some for cash (as evident in a sting camera operation by the Noida- based India TV in 2011). Interestingly, the genial Mohinder Singh Amarnath, a former World Cupper and himself a selector from 2010-2013 had, during his cricketing days branded the national selectors as a bunch of jokers. His denouncement of the selectors came in 1988, six years after India had won the Prudential World Cup at Lord’s in a final where Amarnath was adjudged the Man of the Match. The chief selector at the time, Raj Singh Dungarpur was expectedly seething with anger at Amarnath’s statement and promptly called for his sack.

And when Amarnath, in a twist of fate, was included by the BCCI as one of national selectors in 2010, he told friends in private conversation that he had routine run-ins with his colleagues in his efforts to make the selection process more transparent. ‘No one wants to change, everyone wants to take politically-correct decisions,’ Amarnath told his friends.

There are countless stories about the selectors and the one who leads the pack. The current leader of the Gang of Five is Sandeep Patil. The former flashy batsman replaced one-time Indian opener and skipper Krishnamachari Srikkanth in September 2012 as the head of the selection committee. Though Patil is yet to face tough questions from the media, his predecessor Srikkanth was known for his flip flops, occasionally failing to justify selections which seemed to many as being based on nothing more than sheer favouritism. Worse, Srikkanth would not answer straight questions and was known for instructing reporters – through his conduits – just before a press conference, not to ask tough questions.

Consider the incident that took place during the press briefing that followed the selection meeting for the Asia Cup 2012. Srikkanth, tired of constant criticism, blasted a scribe, asking him to shut up and added, ‘You keep quiet. Aap aise googly bol-bol ke baat karega toh mai bhi gussa ho jaega. Aap mere ko ungli daloge toh mere se kya expect karte ho. (If you bowl a googly then I will get angry. If you provoke me, I will also give it back).’

And what was the question that upset Srikkanth so much? The reporter had asked him to clarify his reasons for resting Virender Sehwag for the series in light of the rumours that the Delhi opener was shunted out because he did not see eye-to-eye with skipper Mahendra Singh Dhoni. It was believed that the two had a private showdown in Australia as well, evident from the press conference on 21 February 2012 where Virender Sehwag, after putting in a quality fielding show at Brisbane against Sri Lanka as a stand-in captain, minced no words in giving it back to skipper Dhoni, who had earlier cited poor fielding as the reason behind the rotation policy of three of the senior-most batsmen in the side: Sachin Tendulkar, Gautam Gambhir, and Sehwag.

The Delhi opener had pulled off a stunner to get rid of his Lankan counterpart Mahela Jayawardene in the Brisbane ODI. He had flown to his left at midwicket to pocket a superb catch, countering Dhoni’s fielding jibe in style.

The journalist did not pursue his line of questioning with Srikkanth. Further, many of the journalists who attended that conference told him to abstain from asking controversial questions. They were senior reporters who were speaking from past experience.

In India, cricket journalists rarely argue with the selectors. Here cricket is not next to religion, cricket is religion and it is considered a sacrilege to ask offending questions, even if the selectors have picked more misses than hits in the side. The misses could include picking a cricketer – because of his proximity to the then skipper – out of a seven-year wilderness straight from his Florida holiday, thereby neglecting consistent players who helped a state win the Ranji Trophy, the biggest domestic tournament. The selectors expect reporters to not question their decisions and report the details simply as offered by them. Such is the level of their sensitivity that even an interpretation by a cricket journalist is misjudged, as is an inference by a cricket writer. The BCCI – claim all those who cover the game – is hypersensitive about any critical analysis and the selectors themselves are super touchy about anything they see in print or television about themselves and their decisions. And in cricket-crazy India, everyone needs the selector to be on the right side of journalism, especially in today’s high-pressure environment of breaking news.

The selectors obviously love such adulation and routinely give out relatively ‘secret’ information to various reporters, especially those who play ball with them, the board chairman and of course, the captain and coach. There have been times when, during a tournament, certain newspapers’ columns have been written by the team’s official spokesperson instead of the reporters themselves. There have also been times when the chief selector (Krishnamachari Srikkanth) has been a part of a news channel (CNN-IBN) as one of their panelists and routinely offered them exclusive dope about players.

And journalists have loved it. When the legendary Sachin Tendulkar huffed and puffed to his hundredth century in first-class cricket, Peter Lalor, a seasoned Australian writer, expressed shock on seeing Indian journalists lining up for autographs. ‘Everyone seems to be on right side of cricket in India.’ He should know. A few years ago, when the BCCI was looking to fill the slot of an official spokesperson, the biggest chunk of calls came from cricket reporters and sports editors.

Ever since he was named as the skipper of the side – the first honours coming his way at Delhi’s Taj Palace hotel in September 2007 as India’s T20 squad got ready to depart for the inaugural World Cup to be held in South Africa – Mahendra Singh Dhoni had been made aware of the pressures of the politics of the game by his friends in Ranchi and Kolkata. While he had enough public exposure, Dhoni was not prepared for the media blitz that targets the Indian cricket captain. However, he was well aware of the tensions that emerge especially around the time when a team was selected for an upcoming tournament and only a handful of players were picked and many dropped by the captain and the five selectors. Dhoni had a strange relationship with cricket writers. He valued only a few and for him, the rest were mere troublemakers who would revel in turning unsubstantiated gossip into headlines, both on television and morning dailies.

‘The best way to handle [the media – especially the cricket writers] is not to be politically correct,’ Dhoni told his long time friend, Arun Pandey (now his business partner). Dhoni’s subtle statement, immediately after he became skipper, pointed at those contentious stories the newspapers printed after getting ‘briefed’ by ‘BCCI insiders’ (read selectors). He hated the way the media had painted him a ‘villain’ who pushed Dravid out of the captaincy, especially when Dravid himself had told the selectors he wanted a break from the top job. But a section of media still blamed Dhoni.

Dhoni had first-hand knowledge of the way selectors functioned before and after meetings – meant to be completely secret – at five-star hotels across the country. The pressure of handling the selectors was high and Dhoni knew he would have to rein them by taking some tough calls and then sticking to them to prove himself right. Dhoni’s friends told him it was a tall order and there would be times when he would find himself alone with no backers. But Dhoni seemed ready for it.

His friend Pandey warned him for a second time – no, it is not that easy, he told Dhoni. Dhoni could argue and get the team he wanted. But then, he must lead the team to repeated wins. ‘Your wins must outweigh the losses,’ Pandey told Dhoni. That, in short, would be the only way a captain could prove his point and silence the selectors and of course, critics.

In India, this is a big gamble for a skipper. But if a skipper can manage both, as Saurav Ganguly did during the 2002-2004 years, he lives to rule the day. ‘You must have courage and guts if you want to succeed in leading the team,’ Pandey had cautioned Dhoni the day he was named skipper following the sudden resignation of Rahul Dravid. The Wall, true to character, had submitted his resignation letter after a glittering BCCI function in New Delhi, and then coolly gone out for dinner with some of his confidants. He did not make any public statements and thus, triggered a million speculations across India’s 250-plus news channels about his sudden resignation.

Dhoni was named the skipper with little fanfare. Expectedly, speculation hit the roof and news channels resumed their mad cycle of breaking news. Virtually all channels planned special shows that night with former cricketers (invited as guests on panels and discussions). Almost all shows made bizarre speculations based on inside information from the world’s richest cricket board.

Dhoni did not ignore all this at all, and genuinely wondered – for a while – what he was getting into. ‘I will have to handle it (the pressure) really well; I cannot and will not complain. I know how to handle the media. If I respect them, they will value me and return that respect. Do not worry,’ he told his parents on the phone from Delhi, where he was resting with his teammates. Little did he know that very soon he would be faced with a situation as captain of the team that would prove to be his first acid test with the Indian selectors, and, of course, the troublesome Indian media. His decision would be loved and hated in equal measure by those playing the game as well as the millions following it.

The incident took place on the sunny Sunday afternoon of 20 January 2008 in Mumbai. The national selection committee of BCCI was scheduled to meet at the grand Taj Mahal Hotel overlooking the majestic Gateway of India. Scores of yachts, trawlers, motor dinghies, and tugboats were moored in the calm Arabian Sea. In between the hotel and the imposing structure of the Gateway stood numerous outdoor broadcast vans of various television channels, their technicians busy laying silver coloured cables through the side entrance of the Taj. The preparations were for the press conference that was to follow the BCCI Selection Committee meeting for the ODI series that would follow the Test series Down Under.

The selectors had already offered the television channels a byte for their morning broadcasts by saying the meeting would not take long and the presser would be earlier than usual. To the reporters this indicated that there might not be any surprises in the side. Still, 70-odd reporters waited in the hotel’s reception with bated breath – some of them who were considered ‘knowledgeable’ even had headlines ready to roll. There were others who left the hotel to have grilled veggie sandwiches and sweetened tea at shacks close to the Gateway of India. Those were reporters from the dailies with time on their side.

For reasons unknown, the selectors appeared serious and refrained from dropping their customary hints to the reporters about possible changes in the side. This was a departure from what had become a routine practice for the selectors – leaking a name or two to trigger the news rush on broadcast channels. Were they hiding something, wondered the waiting journalists. Minutes before starting the meeting – to select the national team for February’s triangular ODI series in Australia, titled the CB series – the five selectors had asked the waiters to open the eight feet-high curtains of the hall for the sunlight to filter in. As per the agenda, there was just one major dilemma facing the selectors: whether or not to recall former captain Rahul Dravid into the team. However, there was other problem, which revolved around the composition of the pace bowling department, weakened by the heel injury-induced absence of Zaheer Khan. The opening bowler had been completely ruled out for the forthcoming tri-series and also the one-off T20 international against hosts Australia that was to follow the tri-series.

Dravid had lost his place in the one-day squad controversially, after a string of poor scores against Australia in the home series in 2007. The selectors had then picked Sehwag in his place – who had also performed badly – for the first two ODIs against the visiting Pakistan team. ‘He needs a break very badly,’ chief selector Dilip Vengsarkar had commented after the selection meeting.

However, The Wall had retained his place in the Test side headed to Australia and had rediscovered quite a bit of his vaunted form.

In making a decision the selectors had to consider other factors: most important among them was the lack of form of Yuvraj Singh. Dravid had been asked to open in the Test series, so that Singh could find a slot in the side. Also in the reckoning was Virender Sehwag, who had opened the day in the Perth Test on 26 January 2008 with considerable success and was in the run for an ODI berth. Newspaper reports had earlier said that the selectors were tempted to give back Dravid his ODI slot, especially with young middle-order batsmen Robin Uthappa and Rohit Sharma not being in the best of form.

Also on the agenda was anything else that the captain would seek from the board. Thus began the meeting.

After initial deliberations, it was time for video-conferencing with the skipper from Australia on the final selection. The Test series was over and the ODIs about to start, in between was the selection meeting. It was expected that those not finding a place in the new squad would return to India. As the projector was switched on, the selectors were greeted by the images of a casually dressed Dhoni, accompanied by vice-captain Yuvraj Singh, sporting his trademark baseball cap.

For the next ten seconds, claimed one selector later, both sides checked each other out on their respective screens. Videoconferencing, if not handled well, can always mess up situations. Once the selectors realized that Dhoni and Singh were watching them and could hear them loud and clear, they were ready to commence discussions.

However, even before the selectors could start their deliberations on the ODI format, Dhoni said he had something to say and that it was important. ‘Kindly bear with me, sirs,’ he said politely, triggering both surprise and silence in the room. A curious waiter who had been about to leave the room but had halted near the door was signaled by one of the selectors, probably Dilip Vengsarkar, to leave immediately. Being a part of the system, Vengsarkar knew the reasons and routes of leaks from such meetings too well.

Suddenly, the focus was on Dhoni. The selectors, though surprised by Dhoni’s sudden request, remained calm. Perhaps they knew what was coming, but still wanted him to say it. The Indian skipper did not mince his words when he went on to ask for the exclusion of Saurav Ganguly, the former skipper and – in many ways – his mentor, from the ODI side. ‘I think you will have to agree to my demand. And listen, I am not alone here with this observation, even Yuvraj feels the same, so does our trainer Gregory King and there are enough reasons for it,’ said Dhoni.

The selectors were stumped.

‘Fielding is indeed an issue with Dada, he is very, very slow,’ explained a calm and composed Dhoni, adding that King, who had been keeping a tab on the fitness of Indian players, also believed that apart from the fielding abilities of the pugnacious left-hander, it was Ganguly’s poor running between the wickets that posed a serious problem. ‘We cannot have him in the side and must have a replacement. In fact, we have thought about the replacement already,’ persisted Dhoni.

The selectors – Dilip Vengsarkar, Ranjib Biswal, and Venkatapathy Raju – didn’t know what had hit them. They had not seen such a steely and sure captain. In fact, they had been keen to retain Ganguly in the one-day team. But Dhoni simply did not agree. He had different ideas and informed the selectors that it did not serve much purpose to include a player who could break down at some stage of the one- day tour. The argument against Ganguly also included the point that he was not of much use either in the outfield or infield and his fitness became an issue after 40 overs. In fact, Ganguly’s lack of fitness had been an issue even during the one-day series against Pakistan at home the previous year. It did not become a full blown affair because of the tremendous form the left-hander exhibited, striking a double hundred, a century and a near one to top 500 runs against the neighbours in 2007. ‘What about the runs he gives to the side, Dhoni? Can you disagree?’ Vengsarkar asked. Interestingly, this was the second time Vengsarkar was pushing for the former Indian captain’s inclusion in the side. He had earlier asked for a rethink on the fourth day of the Perth Test. Not just that, Vengsarkar was also aware of the personal request the former Indian skipper had made to him some time ago: that he wanted a big farewell, something like a one-day series in Australia. It would be, for Ganguly, a great way to cap his career that had flourished Down Under in the fall of 2003, the year India also reached the finals of the ICC World Cup in South Africa.

But his suggestion was met with a strong counter argument from Dhoni who said he had studied – along with King – the pitches in Australia and was convinced a slow player like Ganguly would have serious trouble meeting expectations of the team leadership. To argue his defence, Dhoni ironically raised a point that Ganguly himself had brought up some years ago – that it was important to push in young blood in the side. The performance of his boys at the inaugural T20 World Cup in South Africa had indicated their fitness, which was becoming an important issue with those selected for the shorter version of the game. It was, Dhoni argued, nothing but power play in the ODI.

Biswal, a selector from East Zone and reportedly close to the former Indian skipper, argued the latter’s case further. He said the series was not a T20 game but an ODI. ‘The logic of a T20 game is different from a proper one-day match. So where is the problem?’ he asked. Even that did not pass muster. ‘Fitness is fairly important in a one-day match,’ Dhoni countered.

Sitting next to his captain, Yuvraj Singh now chipped in. He said he did not disagree that Ganguly was still useful for the runs, but he – like Dhoni – felt the fielding ability of the Bengal left-hander was a major handicap. ‘The idea to stop a run and ease pressure on the fielding side is simply not there anymore with Dada. Extra runs always mess your show when you are playing an ODI,’ countered Dhoni, and then offered what the selectors later described as a masterstroke of explanation. This one was scientific and straight from the captain who had ample backing from King who was seated next to Dhoni and was armed with sheaf of papers and his favourite laptop.

The analysis was accurate and had the selectors flummoxed. It was the first time that a scientific argument was put forward to get rid of slow players from a cricket team. Dhoni continued: If India was fielding to Australia’s batting and two of Australia’s best batsmen, Michael Clarke and hard-hitting Mathew Hayden were at the crease, the chances were that a poor fielder would allow Clarke to score a run even if it was not there. If that happened, it would increase the risk factor of having Hayden blasting another boundary or a six on the very next ball because he would know that one fielder is weak and chances are that he would continue to misfield. World over, argued King, batsmen have always gained confidence whenever fielders have faltered and bowlers have gone wayward with line and length.

Now, King was talking and backing Dhoni’s argument that if such a situation actually emerged and Mathews hit a sixer, the total runs off the over would then be seven. In the case of a boundary, the total would be five. ‘Now an alert fielder, by saving the first single, would eventually save the next six or four runs as well,’ argued King, supported by Dhoni and Yuvraj.

It was a presumption that had been arrived at scientifically. While no one knew who had really helped put the theory in place for Dhoni to argue his case, the selectors suspected it was the handiwork of the no-nonsense King who had worked very hard to understand the strengths and weaknesses of the team. The idea was to weed out the weak legs. Ganguly and Dravid just happened to be at the wrong end of that scientific argument.

Dhoni’s assertiveness made it a foregone conclusion that Ganguly would not be needed in the one- day series. He also removed Dravid from the side, his job made easy because The Wall had not been part of the Indian ODI team against Pakistan when the visitors came to India the previous year. In one shot, the young lad from Ranchi had got rid of two former Indian captains from the side. The decision, undoubtedly, was a tough one.

The selectors knew they had taken a tough call. However, during the tension-ridden video conference, no one asked Dhoni whether his decision to drop Ganguly from the ODI team would impact the morale of the side as it went in for the fourth Test in Adelaide.

The responsibility of breaking the news to Ganguly fell on Biswal: he’d initially told India’s Test captain Anil Kumble about the impending move, but Kumble was very, very reluctant to break the news to the former Indian skipper. Relations between the two had been slightly strained ever since Ganguly had sidelined Kumble throughout the World Cup 2003 in favour of the turbantor, Harbhajan Singh. The genial Kumble put the ball squarely back in Biswal’s court and gently told him to break the news to Ganguly.

Biswal did the needful by relaying the news to a stunned Ganguly. The former skipper, obviously, did not like the decision and quietly conveyed the same to some of his close journalist friends from Kolkata.

As soon as the meeting was over and the announcements made at the press conference, news channels went berserk with the news of the axing of two former skippers from the one-day side. The decision was provocative enough for irate fans to take to the streets in Kolkata – a city known for its extreme passions – and burn effigies of the Indian skipper.

Even in Ranchi, Dhoni’s hometown, scores of Ganguly supporters conducted candle night protests outside the home of the Indian skipper. How could Dhoni do this to his mentor, screamed his fans? ‘You deserted Ganguly,’ read one poster. ‘Dhoka Diya Ganguly ko, (You have betrayed Ganguly,’) read another.

Passions ran high in the streets of Ranchi, which had a sizeable Bengali population. For them, it was nothing short of an insult of the mentor (read Ganguly). And that the incident happened after the left- hander had worked hard to get Dhoni in the side in the first place bothered many to no end.

‘I had to intervene and tell the crowd to back off and not stone Dhoni’s home,’ said Mahadev Sen, Ranchi’s veteran cameraman. The crowds, claimed Sen, retreated only after Dhoni’s father told them that he would like to speak to the Indian captain and get ‘an answer’ for the upset Ganguly fans.

Meanwhile, in the usually peaceful city of Bangalore, solidarity for Dravid was rampant. Groups of students marched through the streets of Karnataka’s capital city, holding placards which variously proclaimed: ‘The Wall can never be breached’, ‘Impregnable Wall’, and ‘The Wall does not talk, does not break. Dirty pushes can never break the Wall’.

News of the tensions reached the shores of faraway Australia as well. As he sat in front of his laptop and watched news clips of the turmoil caused by his decision, the Indian cricket captain remembered what his parents had said to him the day he was made the ODI captain: Do not buckle down. Dhoni was determined not to bow in the face of intense media pressure. He remained confident of his decision.

To many cricket writers it seemed that in faraway Australia, a new Dhoni was born – a man of grit, hope and vision for the Indian cricket team. He would not compromise nor buckle under pressure. In his hands lay the future of the Blue Billion Express.

But the mayhem continued unabated, even taking political overtures. Members of the ruling CPM-led Left Front – for reasons strange – called it a ‘great conspiracy’ against Bengal. The opposition wanted to know what prompted the instant sacking of two legends of Indian cricket.

While the Indian media speculated and debated the issue endlessly, the Australian media remained non-committal. Newspapers and television channels in Australia were not overtly concerned about the changes in the Indian cricket team. Dhoni loved the no-nonsense style of the Aussie media and, in private conversations, told Yuvraj and King that he was confident that the current controversy would die a natural death.

During practice sessions, Dhoni remained strong and flatly refused to take Indian media’s intense questioning on the exclusion of Dravid and Ganguly from India’s ODI side. He, however, did defend the timing of the team announcement and pooh-poohed concerns that it came on the eve of the Adelaide Test and had upset the harmony of the team. He said the announcement timing was out of logistical concerns for players still in India. ‘If we had delayed the announcement of the team till the 29 [January] they would have got the visa on the 30 and by then, the first ODI would already be over. Sometimes you have to respect time and with the amount of cricket we play sometimes it’s a tough decision,’ explained Dhoni, cool as a cucumber.

He also said the decision was based on logical and scientific grounds that had been already been explained and added – he actually rubbed it in – that to him it seemed more of a media issue than anything else. ‘I think it has affected the (Indian) journalists more than us,’ Dhoni laughed, adding: ‘We are back in the practice sessions, we trained in the morning without any hiccups, so it has not affected us in any way. We have one more Test to go. Let’s wait six more days and as soon as we land in Melbourne, we will answer questions about the one-day squad and the series.’

What was amazing was not just his resolve, but the fact that not a single reporter argued with him. It seemed clear that he was a captain not just in total command of his team, but also with the ability to handle a frenzied Indian media with total calm. His attitude was very clear: he would not take any nonsense from anyone, be it the media or selectors. The attitude of the Indian captain impressed many, among them was former Indian skipper Sunil Gavaskar. Dhoni was probably the only cricketer in the national team who had never had a conversation with the legendary opener. A reporter from Ranchi had once warned him that by ignoring the legend, he was possibly antagonizing the veteran, then a batting consultant with the BCCI and also a commentator for ESPN Star Sports. But Dhoni seemed unperturbed. ‘I honestly do not think I should invade his privacy. Let him do his commentary and I am sure we will meet some day,’ he told the reporter. This expression of supreme confidence was on display in Australia as well, especially after the controversial decision just before the CB Series. Interestingly, he drew praise from none other than the Little Master himself. In one of the commentary sessions, Gavaskar said he was happy to see Dhoni in complete control of the side and ‘not giving in to the media onslaught’.

‘He must continue to carry his attitude inside, as well as, outside the field. In Indian cricket, silent captains have died silent deaths,’ Gavaskar hinted subtly but clearly to the spectators as well as to the current captain.

Expectedly, the protests died a slow death. While majority of cricket-crazy Indians realized that Dhoni was perfectly justified in his decision and were in favour of it, there were others who continued to feel that the departure of two of India’s classiest batsmen – both an absolute treat to watch when in full flow – could have been handled better.

The decision impacted Ganguly a lot more than it did Dravid. A year after this incident, Ganguly – probably still carrying the pain in his heart – deliberately avoided members of the Indian national team when they were relaxing barely a mile away from the hotel in Mumbai’s Nariman Point where he had come to attend a charity ball.

Dhoni felt sad when he was informed of Ganguly’s decision to avoid the national team. ‘I will not be the one to cause him pain. I will make amends,’ he told his friend Pandey.

It happened in Nagpur in November 2009. Dhoni, on hearing that Ganguly had decided to retire from Test cricket after the Test match against Australia was over, asked his former skipper to lead the side for more than an hour. ‘Please sir, do it for me, the team, India, and for your fans,’ said Dhoni as he walked up to his mentor and former skipper. Ganguly happily obliged. A relationship that had fractured and turned acrimonious after that abrupt sacking in Australia, turned a happy corner, and had a happy ending.

A mellowed Ganguly agreed this was a tactical masterstroke from Dhoni. ‘He knew what he was doing, perhaps what he did was right,’ Ganguly told his friends, who had earlier criticized the Ranchi boy for having the audacity to drop two former captains from the side without a whimper. In Ganguly’s words, one thing was clear: Only when the head that wears the crown has the courage to take unpalatable decisions – convinced they are correct – his leadership comes of age.

‘Do not forget he stayed with the decision. That is the ideal sign of a captain, a skipper. A captain is like an actor, he knows his decision will help make the film, win the match,’ Ganguly told his friends. 6

Fireworks in the Desert

Very few in Jaipur would remember that the elegant Maharaja Sawai Man Singh – whose love for polo and cricket was legendary – was known as SMS, among his friends. In fact, Man Singh would routinely encourage his close associates and confidants to address him by that acronym.

The Maharaja of Jaipur loved polo and was instrumental in winning the World Cup Polo way back in 1933. While Polo was where his heart was, SMS eventually also developed an interest in and a soft corner for cricket. He was aware of the game’s growing popularity both in India and England, where he travelled to – along with representatives of other European nations – while he was the Indian ambassador to Spain during the mid 1960s.

On being told by his friends that cricket in India – for a while now – was being patronized by the erstwhile maharajas of the princely states of Patiala, Jamnagar, and Cooch Behar to name a few, the Maharaja of Jaipur too began promoting the game with gusto in his home state.

Initially played in barren fields that had specially-laid pitches, the game in Jaipur eventually shifted to a stadium that Man Singh built in the corner of the city’s Rambagh circle. Initially, it was among the city’s important landmarks but slowly the stadium started losing its sheen as Jaipur failed to host big cricket matches. Man Singh was extremely upset that the stadium – one he had built from his personal funds – was not being promoted by cricket authorities but could do nothing about it. He was helpless, sad and often vented his ire on some of the big organizers of cricket in India who routinely neglected Jaipur. Then in 1970, Man Singh had a horrific accident while playing polo in Cirencester, England and died the same day.

After Man Singh’s death, the Sawai Man Singh stadium got its usual quota of Ranji and Duleep Trophy matches but – for reasons unknown – was kept out of the big cricket circuit (read Test, and later one-day internationals). It still hosted some special matches where teams from across the world played against the national selection but the aura that many associated with the venerated Eden Gardens of Kolkata, or for that matter, Mumbai’s Wankhade Stadium, continued to elude the Sawai Man Singh Stadium.

But eventually, things did begin to change for Jaipur and its only cricket stadium. Thanks to a perceived neutrality of the grounds, the Indian cricket board decided to host a very special cricket match there in 1987. It was an India versus Pakistan Test match made famous by the sudden arrival of the then Pakistan president, General Zia-ul Haq, who hopped across the border to watch the second day’s play as part of his Cricket for Peace initiative.

That, however, was the extent of breaking news for the stadium and its management, some belonging to the erstwhile royal family. Nothing earth-shattering happened between the two traditional rivals as the game sputtered to a tame draw after the third day’s play was washed out because of a torrential downpour (a rarity for the capital of the desert state) and a seemingly unnecessary controversy over the alleged deposit of sawdust on the wicket that the visitors objected to and suspected foul play from some radical organization. The matter was, however, hushed up immediately by an alert administration. Zia’s visit was, however, the silver lining of the match, appreciated by politicians from both countries.

The stadium, interestingly, had made its international debut with an India-Pakistan ODI in 1983-84; it also hosted World Cup matches in 1987 and 1996. However, despite this, Jaipur’s cricket ground continued to remain a backyard of Indian cricket and there were times when many felt the ground could even lose its international status. Some even recommended that it be turned into a hockey or a football field.

This did not seem to bother the mandarins of Indian cricket, except one man who hated the way the big bosses of the game were neglecting his beloved home town. Lalit Modi, scion of the 15,000-crore Modi empire, had studied abroad, occasionally smoked pot, dabbled in television, wanted to start a big bucks football league in India. He wanted to play big, really big in everything he did. And in India, the big game was undoubtedly cricket, felt Modi.

A top boss of the Rajasthan Cricket Association (RCA), (he was elected president in 2005) Modi took a step at a time, eventually taking over the total management and control of the dull, brick and mortar cricketing edifice in the northwestern desert state. Slowly, yet steadily, he turned it into a very classy stadium. He raised cash from the markets, sought some from the BCCI and silently started his work. Not many took note, even journalists in the city believed that only broken chairs were being repaired at the Sawai Man Singh Stadium. They did not care to enter the ground and see for themselves the work that was underway. If they had bothered to make an effort, they would have seen what Modi called the complete transformation of the stadium by 2006. Concrete seats got replaced with fiberglass bucket seats, corporate boxes made things plush and comfortable for the high rollers of cricket sponsorship and a spanking new specially-laid parking lot made access much easier for vast numbers of fans. And he didn’t neglect the all-important pitch – Modi saw to it that the grass was completely re-laid, mostly with imports from Kolkata. He even had two pitches airlifted from Kolkata and Mumbai to turn Sawai Man Singh Stadium into a veritable Super Bowl. Now, the stadium looked as if it was ready to host the next ICC World Cup Cricket.

‘My friends called it an oasis,’ laughed Modi, when reminded of his work to modernize the drab brick and mortar structure. Modi had guts and gumption to dare to dream big. He had told his friends that he wanted to make the stadium the classiest so that it could beat the competition – old favourite Eden Gardens and ‘upstart’ Mohali – hands down. ‘This should be India’s showcase to the world,’ Modi told his friends at a dinner hosted to celebrate the completion of the ground’s redesigning. The Sawai Man Singh Stadium also holds a special place in the cricketing record books – there are two very peculiar records associated with the grounds. The first is Sunil Gavaskar’s getting out on the first ball of a 1987 Test match (one of only three times in his career), as he was caught by an ever-alert Javed Miandad to a terrific in-swinger from the fiery Imran Khan. And the second record set here is that of the highest ODI score by a wicket-keeper, Mahendra Singh Dhoni, who scored 183 not out on 31 October in 2005 against Sri Lanka to eclipse the record of his idol Adam Gilchrist (172 against Zimbabwe). It was, arguably, Dhoni’s big bang moment. Over 55,000 fans were crammed inside the stadium, and another 10,000 waited outside because they had no tickets and relied mostly on radio commentary and occasional roars from within. Modi’s best mates – film stars, ad gurus, fashion designers, rebel writers, maverick filmmakers, and other members of India’s glitterati club – had filled the corporate boxes, adding a fair amount of glamour to the action on the pitch.

It was a humid day, a high-voltage night.

The fireworks started slowly, and eventually reached a finale as Dhoni blazed his way to a near double century. Millions of television viewers across the nation exploded with joy as the Blue Billion Express cruised to a comfortable six-wicket victory over Sri Lanka in the third ODI. ‘It was one of the best innings I had ever seen. Dhoni played the best match of his life,’ remarked Harsha Bhogle, then an ESPN commentator.

But the night had not been that easy for India. The start, on the contrary, had been rather discouraging for the hosts. The visitors had piled on a huge total of 298 for four wickets, thanks to wicketkeeper Kumar Sangakkara’s blistering, unbeaten knock of 138 off 147 balls, including 13 boundaries and two towering sixes. And this happened when Sri Lanka – after Captain Marvan Atapattu won the toss for the first time in three matches and decided to bat – had lost its first wicket in the sixth over when Ajit Agarkar’s classy, short-pitched delivery was edged inside by Sanath Jayasuriya onto his stumps after the southpaw had scored just 15 runs.

In fact, Jayasuriya, nursing an elbow injury, had already survived a close chance in the third over off Irfan Pathan when Murali Karthik, at mid-off, had failed to hold onto a rather difficult chance. But the early loss of Jayasuriya did not affect the Sri Lankan run rate – the score had reached 51 for one after 10 overs – and Sangakkara slowly took charge.

A regular No. 3, Sangakkara was promoted to open the batting at Mohali (in the second ODI) in view of Atapattu’s recent slump, and he made full use of the opportunity to play 50 overs.

That he was the in-form batsman was evident, as he stroked some magnificent drives off the fast bowlers early on when the ball was hard and stroke play relatively easier, but the most impressive part of Sanga’s innings was the manner in which the wicketkeeper kept his wits when the Sri Lankan innings was apparently going nowhere. Atapattu huffed and puffed to a painful 17 off 49 balls but Sanga kept his calm and eventually turned a competitive total into an imposing one. In terms of pacing a one-day innings, this one was master class. He reached his half-century off 79 balls, with eight boundaries and completed his fourth ODI century with a neatly flicked shot to square leg off Agarkar in the 42nd over.

The Indians knew they needed some rather good batting to beat this total. The host team – on a high because of two previous wins – hoped for a good start, ostensibly because Master Blaster Sachin Tendulkar had looked supreme in the series, scoring 160 runs in two previous matches and another great innings was expected from him. Indian fans also looked to Virender Sehwag to continue his blazing run riot with the mega hits that had become synonymous with the Delhi opener. Passions ran high in the stadium as Sehwag got off to a flying start, hitting a boundary off the first ball from left-arm pacer Chaminda Vaas. But the Sri Lankan pacer struck with the fifth ball of the over, claiming the prized wicket of Tendulkar when he had scored just two runs. The Indian run machine was dismissed by a brilliant diving catch by wicketkeeper Sangakkara after trying to slash at a wide, out- swinging delivery from Vaas.

There was a sudden hush in the stadium as Mahendra Singh Dhoni walked out of the dressing room into the ground. Almost instantly, the sardine-packed stadium gave him a thunderous welcome. Interestingly, the Sri Lankans – who had earlier been stunned by Pathan’s sudden promotion to number three in the Nagpur match – were wondering what had prompted Dhoni’s promotion this time. In fact, the move caught them completely unawares. ‘Dhoni was promoted to number three after the early loss of Tendulkar to take advantage of the fielding restrictions,’ remembers seasoned cricket writer Ayaz Memon, adding: ‘What he eventually did that night to the Sri Lankans was just amazing. He virtually clobbered them out of shape, out of the match.’

It seemed as if Dhoni wanted to send a message to none other than his counterpart Sangakarra. He started in swashbuckling style, punishing the Sri Lankan bowlers by thumping three huge sixes on the off-side, as the bowlers had drifted slightly wide of the stumps. Those three hits looked as if he was giving enough indication of the way he’d decided to bat. India reached 75 for one after 10 overs and it did seem that the assault by Sehwag (28 from 23 balls) and Dhoni (44 from 35 balls) had made up for Tendulkar’s early dismissal.

But to those watching the game closely, Dhoni clearly seemed like a man in hurry. He wanted to finish off everything before time. He raced to his half-century off 40 balls, with six boundaries and three sixes, in the twelfth over. His third ODI half-century came in his customary attacking fashion as he lofted one from Vaas straight back over the bowler’s head to the long-off fence. Vaas stood in stunned silence even as the crowds went delirious with joy and chanted ‘Mahi, Mahi’.

The visitors really had no answer to the kind of firepower unleashed by the Indian wicketkeeper and opted not to use the second Power Play after 10 overs, in order to try and frustrate the batsmen. They had a feeling that if the pace was slowed down, the Indians would get rattled and aim for the big hit and, eventually, get caught on the ropes.

It was, possibly, a sound cricketing calculation, but the Sri Lankans hadn’t reckoned with the fact that this was Dhoni’s night. Dhoni and Sehwag played intelligently for a few overs before Muttiah Muralitharan struck with one of his deadly deliveries. The wily spinner dismissed Sehwag, trapping him leg before wicket as he tried to sweep the off-spinner. It was a classic doosra that had Sehwag all ends up, as the ball pitched on leg stump and straightened a bit. The Delhi power-box, who had made 39 from 37 balls, had put on a quick-fire partnership of 92 for the second wicket with Dhoni.

The fall of Sehwag left Dhoni unfazed. It didn’t seem to stop his steam-rollering, as he continued his attacking brand of cricket in the second Power Play, which Sri Lanka took in the 16th over. At that point, India had scored 148 for 2 after 20 overs, with Dhoni unbeaten on 92 from 70 balls. The Jharkhand boy reached his second one day international century in the 25th over, off just 84 balls, with 10 boundaries and 5 sixes. India was 169 for two at the halfway mark in the innings.

For the record, Dhoni’s previous century had been an equally aggressive 148 off 123 balls against Pakistan, which had helped India post a massive 356-9 win (by 58 runs) in April earlier that year.

The third Power Play was taken at the end of 27 overs. By then, the Sri Lankans had frustration written all over their faces and were wondering what to do next because India was comfortably placed on 185 for two with Dhoni batting well on 104. Luckily, Muralitharan brought some cheer to the visitors, as he foxed Dravid with a flighted delivery: The Wall was caught and bowled for 28. The Indian skipper had tried to turn the ball on the leg-side but was roundly beaten by a straighter one from the spinner. The blade’s leading edge popped straight back to the bowler, who made no mistake.

India had reached 202 for 3 after 30 overs, but still needed another 97 runs at 4.85, a fairly comfortable task, with Dhoni on 120. The Ranchi dynamo hit his seventh six in the 31st over when he lofted a straight one off Tilakratne Dilshan, to equal Sourav Ganguly and Tendulkar’s record of most sixes in an innings by an Indian batsman. Ganguly had hit seven sixes during his innings of 183 against Sri Lanka at Taunton during the 1999 World Cup, while Tendulkar’s record number of sixes had come against Australia at Kanpur in 1998. India had won both those matches. Naturally, Dhoni revelled in his mega strokes. In fact, the match had to halt for as many as five times because it took some time for the groundsmen to find the ball after Dhoni had sent it soaring into the galleries.

But the heat in Rajasthan was taking its toll on Dhoni, who was constantly troubled by cramps. In fact, he’d already asked for mineral water ten times because he was getting severely dehydrated. Eventually, he could not take the pressure any more and, justifiably, opted to play with a runner. He raced to his 150 in just 124 balls in the 36th over. The cheering had reached a crescendo in the stadium as the match was now firmly in India’s grasp. The hosts needed 51 runs in the last 14 overs, with seven wickets in hand. In short, that meant a required run rate of three runs per over. No Sri Lankan bowler, even the legendary Muralitharan and his doosra, was able to make any headway against the rampaging Dhoni that night.

Meanwhile, India had a minor hiccup as it lost another wicket at the other end – Dilshan cleaned up Yuvraj Singh for 18 as the left-hander played into a wrong line and let the delivery crash onto his stumps. But nothing deterred Dhoni. With a runner in tow, it seemed as if he could play for another six hours, if required. His eighth six came in the dying moments of the match when he crashed Chandana over the covers in the 45th over to become the first Indian to hit eight sixes in a one-day international.

With his ninth six in the same over, he broke Adam Gilchrist’s record for the highest score by a wicketkeeper in ODIs. He also went past Kapil Dev’s highest ODI score of 175. Interestingly, it was his tenth six that finally sealed the match, as India won by six wickets and took a 3-0 lead in the series. Sri Lankans agreed that they had needed a miracle to salvage something in the remaining matches and stop the Indian juggernaut, especially Dhoni.

Interestingly, when Dhoni had cracked his first ODI century, he had Virender Sehwag for company. The two – after the departure of Tendulkar for two runs – had shared a 96 run partnership. And when Sehwag left after playing second fiddle to Dhoni’s looming presence in the field, skipper Dravid came along and did the perfect supporting act.

In many ways, the boy from Ranchi was the difference between India and Sri Lanka in Jaipur, helping the home side clinch a 3-0 lead in the seven-match series with 23 balls to spare. His blistering onslaught completely shadowed the night’s other superlative performance – that by Kumar Sangakkara, who held Sri Lanka’s batting together in a superbly paced 138.

In the first game of the series, the BCCI think-tank had preferred Irfan Pathan for the number three slot but in Jaipur, skipper Rahul Dravid chose his wicketkeeper for one simple reason: the Ranchi hitter was seen as a person who could take the pressure and sheen off Vaas and Muralitharan. No one knows the inside stories of the Indian dressing room but it is rumoured that Dravid personally pushed for Dhoni and made a request on that very day before the team left for the stadium and the wicketkeeper happily agreed to be the game changer. The move, eventually, turned out to be quite an inspired one and helped India get a firm grip on the series.

Dravid and fitness coach Gergory King – in fact – had had a detailed look at the pitch the day before and found it lacking in both pace and bounce. It was immediately after the nets that the skipper and the coach pushed Dhoni for the new slot, confident the hard-hitting batsman would do a better job than Pathan.

The mission was simple: the batsman should hit the ball on the rise, follow through the line of the delivery, and advance down the pitch to hit the ball for a big one when the ball isn’t pitched up. Dhoni listened carefully, often taking random notes and munching baked baby corn.

He took care of the new-ball threat that Chaminda Vaas posed, twice smashing the pacer over extra- cover for six, and when Atapattu held back the second Powerplay to push in Muralitharan in the 11th over, Dhoni slowed down his pace, showing the Lankans that he could easily combine brain with brawn.

The singles – Dhoni always found the gaps – kept the Indian scorecard moving. He actually was waiting for the Powerplays to happen again so that he could launch his blistering hits all over the grounds. There were times when he limped constantly because of cramps and scored his last 53 runs with the help of a runner. Time and again, he would walk up to a visibly jittery and nervous Venugopal Rao and encourage him with a few pats on the back so that he stayed at the crease and offered the support Dhoni badly needed.

Dhoni was caught just once in the course of his 145-ball decimation, but that was by a ball boy standing well behind the boundary ropes. Aside from that his innings was chanceless, an achievement for someone who stayed on for 45.2 overs.

Dhoni’s masterpiece was the talk of the night. ‘Whatever Sri Lanka’s leather flingers did, the 24-year- old produced strokes that seared the air, scorched the turf and peppered all sorts of paraphernalia dotting the boundary,’ wrote a reporter on a cricket website about Sangakkara’s misfortune and Dhoni’s power play.

An ecstatic Modi, then president of the RCA, was overjoyed with the result and announced 1 million cash prize for Dhoni.

‘He played an innings when chasing, which requires both talent and temperament. He had nerves of steel,’ said Modi of the night. Modi should know. It’s always difficult to chase a target of close to 300, scoring at a run-a-ball in 50 overs. ‘He was ready for the show even in the dressing room. And when he went out, to me it seemed he was gripped by some supernatural power. He never lost control, never lost concentration of the match,’ said Modi.

Agreed skipper Dravid when he said, ‘Words can’t describe what a great innings it was. It was a privilege to watch an innings like that.’

Significantly, Dravid compared it to Sachin Tendulkar’s 143 against Australia in Sharjah in 1998, one of the most stirring innings played by an Indian in one-dayers. ‘Anyone who watched it at the ground and on television will agree that it is one of the great one-day innings of all time,’ he said of Dhoni’s knock.

‘Significantly, he kept wickets for 50 overs and batted for 46 overs. His 120 runs came off boundaries. And I had a feeling that he could have easily become the world’s first batsman to score a double- hundred in limited-overs cricket.’

Was that on Dhoni’s mind?

Well, not exactly. ‘The main thing was that I wanted to be there till the end,’ he said. ‘I wanted to be able to score the winning runs. It was when I reached 160 that I thought of Gilchrist’s record of 172. We were wary of Muralitharan, he is the world’s best spinner, and Rahul and I decided to take singles against him, see him off and attack the other bowlers.’ And how he attacked.

Rival skipper Kumar Sangakkara, was ideally placed – both literally and figuratively – to get a grip on just how good Dhoni’s knock was. ‘There’s not much to say about it, or describe,’ he said. ‘You won’t see an innings like that again in a long, long time. It was one such night.’

Sangakkara said Dhoni simply did not care who was bowling to him, or whether the ball pitched short or swung awkwardly. Like Sehwag’s no-nonsense policy, Dhoni followed a rustic principle: see the ball, not the bowler. And just hit, hit and hit.

Inside the dressing room, Yuvraj, Sehwag, and Harbhajan Singh broke into an impromptu bhangra with a borrowed tape recorder that played the immensely popular That’s the Way, Mahi Ve, from Karan Johar’s blockbuster, Kal Ho Na Ho.

Minutes later, Dhoni walked out of the dressing room and called his home in Ranchi and spoke to his parents. No one heard the conversation, except these words: ‘Ab to khush ho? (Hope you are happy now?)’ Was it his mother on the other side or his father? Dhoni never answered this one; he merely smiled enigmatically every time he was asked. Some things a cricketer never tells.

At the temple of Deori Mata, a young priest perhaps knew the answer. Basudev Chakraborty, 26, had had a special request from Paan Singh. He performed a special puja in the night of the match. In the precincts of the temple, Chakraborty had only candles for company while he prayed till the match was over. Knowing his interest in the match, his colleagues would slip hand written notes to him so that he would know the score. He asked another priest to bundle all the notes in a red gamcha (cotton towel).

Chakraborty never touched the notes. He briskly walked away after the prayers, only to be chased by his fellow priests. Panting, they caught up with Chakraborty near the exit.

He raised his arms, urging them not to tell him the result. ‘Ma ka ashirwaad tha, Mahi neh match jitaya hain. Khabar kal par lenge (The blessings of the goddess was there, Dhoni helped win the match. Will read details in the papers tomorrow).’

And then Chakraborty walked away, leaving his stunned colleagues in the company of fireflies in the darkness of the temple courtyard. 7

A Phenomenon Called Dhoni

On 15 July 2013, BCCI’s interim president Jagmohan Dalmiya told pesky reporters at his office in Kolkata that nothing will be ‘swept under the carpet’ regarding Indian cricket skipper Mahendra Singh Dhoni’s alleged conflict of interest following reports of his having a stake in a sports management firm that also handles several other Indian cricketers.

The Indian skipper had courted controversy on the grounds that he held 15 per cent stake in Rhiti Sports Management, which manages cricketers Suresh Raina, Ravindra Jadeja, and Pragyan Ojha, besides the Indian skipper.

The company on the other hand claimed that Dhoni held the shares for a brief while, and those were transferred back to the company in April 2013 after payments to the India captain were cleared.

‘We believe we should not be after any player. If someone has a stake in a sports management company, we will not be after him, but will try to correct the mistakes,’ said Dalmiya making it clear that the BCCI was not keen to cause any discomfort to Dhoni. Dalmiya seemed to hint that as long as N. Srinivasan runs the BCCI, Brand Dhoni will remain untouched, especially after the Indian captain had cleared the air about share transfer. In short, nothing would happen to Brand Dhoni because of the captain’s proximity to the czar of Indian cricket.

Interestingly, very few took note of the fact that this incident involving Dhoni – which the BCCI top brass guarded with double zeal – had taken place almost a decade after Indian advertisers were struggling hard to sell Dhoni as an brand ambassador. Everyone, ranging from FMCG brands, white goods giants, and automobile companies, asked one simple question at the time: who is this cricketer?

It was in early 2004, inside the well-protected offices of Dentsu India in South Delhi’s upscale Chattarpur neighbourhood, that two geniuses were working towards creating their respective teams which they hoped would shape the Indian chapter of one of the world’s fastest growing advertising agencies.

One was them was the portly Sandeep ‘Poli’ Goyal – the affable country head of Dentsu India who could read the minds of his clients and the pulse of the market like the palm of his hand. He had previously worked with some of India’s finest advertising agencies, right from JWT (then Hindustan Thomson Associates) to Rediffusion DYR and had been the CEO of Zee Telefilms before forging partnership with Dentsu to start their India operations.

The other genius at play was Sabyasachi ‘Gullu’ Sen, the firm’s highly talented creative head. Sen had been Goyal’s trusted partner for several years at HTA and Rediffusion and was considered a die-hard Goyal loyalist. The two led the agency’s India operations in style, picking up a host of Japanese and Indian clients.

Understanding a client’s mind is always a tough proposition for any agency. Goyal’s favoured method of gauging the same was his famous Celesta study that helped advertising agencies understand the corporate mind. He deployed the study to help his team understand the brand and its core demand. Repeatedly, Goyal and his men would use the Celesta study to help their clients understand the dynamics of the Indian market and arrive at their desired positioning that would give them an advantage vis-à-vis other brands.

One such brand was Yamaha Motor, the Japanese auto major that was trying to make its presence felt in the cluttered Indian motorbike market. Another Japanese auto major, Honda, already ruled the roost with a near 51 per cent share of the two-wheeler market, thanks to a strategic tie-up with the Hero group of Munjals.

The Yamaha Motor account was worth 20 crore and the broad brief to the agency was to successfully launch the company’s new corporate as well as product campaigns in India.

Ruchira Raina, Executive Director of Dentsu Communications, was in charge of the account and responsible for pushing the Japanese auto major’s agenda in the growing markets of South Asia. It was one of Raina’s toughest challenges. It was not going to be easy to plug Yamaha in face of Honda’s market dominance.

One of the first tasks for Raina, Goyal and Gullu was to find a brand ambassador; a refreshing face that could have an instant connect with the masses. And it was going to be a Herculean task. Goyal called it the Aithey Devil, Oothey Blue syndrome of Indian advertising, meaning that seasoned actors were often discarded by advertising agencies because of their high price and at times their overexposure, however, at the same time clients remain wary about fresh faces, wondering whether they will be able to shoulder the burden of launching a new brand. All this while the client wants to remain within defined budgets. It was, for Goyal, akin to wanting the moon and not wanting to pay for it. Caught in between are advertising agencies that just have to deliver what the client wants.

Some brave agencies suggest new actors, some suggest sports people but the final call always becomes difficult as the client remains unsure about what will happen to his brand if endorsed by a ‘fresher’?

Goyal and Gullu too considered filmstars but before picking up the Bollywood star availability list, they thought of suggesting a cricketer to Yamaha Motor team.

It was 2005, the time when India was on a path of glory with a youthful team led by the mercurial Saurav Ganguly, who had already attained fame for a great victory over England and became a poster boy of Indian cricket after he took off his shirt from the balcony of the historic Lord’s cricket ground as India beat England in the finals of the Natwest series. For Indian cricket, it was one of those defining moments that could be compared with Kapil’s 1983 World Cup win, Ravi Shastri’s winning the Champion of Champions title Down Under and Dhoni’s two World Cup wins. Ganguly had also led India to the finals of the ICC World Cricket Cup in faraway South Africa. That India lost the one-sided finals to a better-placed Australia did nothing to dampen the game’s growing craze in the subcontinent. India then had a successful tour Down Under which ESPN Star Sports cleverly labeled Indian cricket’s ashwamedha yatra under Ganguly. They thus linked the Bengal southpaw to the white stallion that ancient Indian kings would follow in the quest to conquer new lands and further expand their empire.

This was also the time when Mahendra Singh Dhoni – with his flowing hair and high voltage cricket – was making his mark on the international cricket scene. While he was still slightly on the margins, with Rahul Dravid keeping wickets for the Tests and two tough opponents in Parthiv Patel and Dinesh Karthik, those who were following Dhoni were confident of his potential for superlative success.

News had circulated that Dentsu was looking for a star to be brand ambassador for Yamaha Motor and a number of celebrity managers started visiting the Dentsu offices. Among the callers was Gameplan India, a Kolkata-based company owned by Malabika and Jeet Banerjee, which was responsible for marketing Dhoni. Then just an emerging talent, Dhoni’s rates were very low when compared with those charged by the legends of Indian cricket or superstars of Bollywood. The cricketer was offered to Yamaha Motor for just 20 lakhs for two years.

‘It was a good buy for a two year period and we were over the moon,’ remembers Goyal. The cricketer, his photos and credentials were offered to the Yamaha India top brass. But, unfortunately, it did not cut much ice with the Japanese team. Who is he? was their first response. Is he a footballer? If yes, what’s his club and what is the club’s rank in Asia and the world. What is India’s rank? Both Goyal and Gullu were flabbergasted with the rapid-fire questioning from the Yamaha team.

Multiple meetings were planned with the cricketer to convince the Japanese bike giant. They were told that Dhoni is one of the finest, that he will be the next wicketkeeper of the side and, eventually, the captain. All potions were stirred. It still did nothing to convince the client. Equally worried was Jeet who wanted a break with a top, global brand for his client and constantly badgered Goyal with his phone calls. Stationed in Kolkata, Jeet was far from the action in Delhi and would panic every now and then.

Goyal started crunching the numbers while Raina and Gullu did another round of hard selling the man who would one day be the Indian cricket captain. The Yamaha bosses were still not convinced. However, they did give an impression that if the price was right, they might look at a bargain with the young cricketer.

‘I asked Jeet how much he was ready to offer,’ says Goyal. The rate was halved instantly, and then it was further brought down to a low of 3 lakh for a year. Jeet said it was his final call. Still, the Japanese bike manufacturers didn’t bite the bullet. They wanted a star with an acceptance level of that of international football star Wayne Rooney; someone fresh faced but blazing glory for his team with a growing fan following across the world.

Goyal explained to his client that cricket was only played in a handful of nations across the world and that in India the game was like a religion with cricketers literally being treated like deities by millions of fans across the country. They were told that if they were looking for an alternate to Rooney, then in India they could only get Bollywood stars and just a handful of top cricketers. Who are they, asked the client. Goyal told them about Sachin Tendulkar. But his rates were astronomical and he was already endorsing a bike brand. There were others, Ganguly, Rahul Dravid, Virender Sehwag, and Yuvraj Singh. However, they were expensive too as they all had hiked their rates after the 2003 ICC World Cup.

Dhoni is your best bet, Goyal told them. Raina and Goyal made one last pitch, explaining the virtues of this earthy, ambitious cricketer who lived in a small town and yet, was shaping up to be a superhero. Nothing worked with the Yamaha bosses. Dhoni was rejected despite hours of hard sell. The agency was asked to find another star. ‘It was a bad miss for Yamaha,’ says Goyal.

In 2009, the same star – now the Indian cricket captain – returned to Dentsu because of his association with Chennai Super Kings and Aircel. This time, the rates were astronomically high. But Yamaha happily paid the cash. After all, they had the Indian cricket captain endorsing their brand.

‘We handled him with utmost caution [this time], often remembering what would have happened if we had signed him up some years ago and shaped his image,’ says Gullu.

Dhoni who was now being handled by Rhiti Sports, a company he once part-owned – was aware of the Yamaha miss. He seemed cool about the miss and continued shooting without any attitude. To Gullu and his creative team it seemed that Dhoni wanted to live a life minus frills and fancies. The Dentsu team would often shoot in Mumbai where Dhoni would stay back late for hours, often missing parties of film stars. Gullu would often ask Dhoni about his family and life’s biggest ambition. Dhoni’s standard reply was: ‘Sirf World Cup jeetna hai.’

What was different about Dhoni was that he would always ask after the junior-most staff on the sets. Whenever he had the time, Dhoni would ask the floor manager to call some of the unit boys so that he could talk to them. He would often ask the boys about their earnings, how much money they sent home and what would they eventually want to become when they grew up.

‘He never threw any tantrums, hardly showed his star value and shot with us for almost five to six hours without batting an eyelid,’ says Gullu.

‘What impressed me most was that – between shoots – he would always enquire whether the spot boys and errand boys had food. Once, he skipped a big John Abraham party that was thrown just for him. “I cannot make it. The shoot is on and unless I finish work and pack up, no one can leave the sets. I have promised the kids that I will eat a meal with them tonight. Let me do it,” Dhoni told the film star. And then, he quietly returned to his shoot,’ recalls Gullu.

Once a magazine wrote how Dhoni, who never opts for business class while travelling for IPL matches, told a guard at a Chennai hotel that he need not stay outside his room because he would be hitting the bed soon. The guard smiled and left instantly.

‘I have seen it in him, he cares, he always cares,’ says Gullu.

‘He is one of the most interesting characters of Indian advertising,’ says R. Balki (Balakrishnan) of Lowe India. Balki, a veteran in the Indian advertising world, should know. Those who had predicted doomsday for Brand Dhoni because of the 2007 Caribbean ICC World Cup fiasco and criticized the Indian skipper for once missing the Padma Bhushan award ceremony because of a prior engagement, were forced to eat their words. The boy from Ranchi was named the world’s most expensive cricketer by Forbes magazine in 2009. The magazine cited the 56 crore kitty he earned by endorsing 11 brands – both national and international – during 2008-09 for its assessment. The following year, in 2010, India’s highest-selling financial daily, the Economic Times, dubbed Dhoni the Chief Executive Officer of the Men in Blue. It said that if, for hypothetical reasons, the Indian cricket team is considered a corporate entity, there’s little doubt that Dhoni is the man with the corner office. The paper then proceeded, not only to calculate Dhoni’s annual compensation package, but also compared it to Reliance Industries’ supremo Mukesh Ambani – India’s richest man.

However, just placing Dhoni in such exalted company wasn’t enough – the newspaper calculated that Dhoni had overtaken Ambani in terms of per hour earnings. It calculated that Dhoni was actually paid a higher per hourly rate than Ambani Sr. for the duration of the first edition of the IPL. At 6 crore for the tournament, spread over 44 days, Dhoni would earn 56,818 per hour. ‘This discounts actual time that Dhoni would spend on the field for Chennai, which would peg the actual per hour figure much higher. Against this, Mukesh Ambani, who had drawn 30.46 crore in the last financial year as salary, perks, and commission from Reliance Industries, would have earned 34,771 per hour,’ said the daily. It seemed that Brand Dhoni had arrived on the world stage.

The paper then went on to compare their other earnings as well. They placed Mukesh Ambani’s dividend income as Reliance promoter alongside Dhoni’s earnings from playing for the country and his brand endorsements. When Dhoni’s friends showed him a clipping of the report, the India captain was very upset. ‘Do not joke with me. His (Mukesh Ambani) is an industry employing over 60,000 people. I am just a cricketer,’ he is believed to have said.

Balki likens him to Amitabh Bachchan of the ’70s – raw, fresh and ready to learn, yet making a statement of his own. If given a chance, the bearded filmmaker would be only too happy to cast him in his next movie (his maiden directorial venture being the Amitabh Bachchan-Tabu starring Cheeni Kum). ‘I would love to have him as the hero of Cheeni Kum 2,’ adds Balki, enjoying every moment of Dhoni’s innocence.

Whether that happens or not, the Ranchi lad has now emerged as the hottest property among celebrities, piping to the post the likes of Shah Rukh Khan, Aishwarya Rai and even the Big B himself, to become the most wanted brand ambassador. Even Master Blaster Tendulkar clocked in behind the swashbuckling captain in recent rankings.

In 2012, the celebrity rankings were arrived at in a survey conducted jointly by Percept Talent Management and Hansa Research. The survey evaluated celebrities from films, sports, business, social work, and politics on parameters such as persuasive power, looks, image attributes, popularity, and media.

The celebrities considered for the list, which is intended to help brands decide on the most appropriate star to sell their products, included actors, general sports persons and people from the music industry. ‘The results enable clients and talents to study the changes with earlier data and then combine the results for an even more robust and long-term understanding of changing public perceptions,’ says Hansa Research’s MD, Ashok Das.

How has Dhoni achieved this apex of popularity? Ad guru Piyush Pandey, himself an avid cricketer who represented Rajasthan in Ranji Trophy, says it’s ‘because of his innocent, million-dollar smile and no-nonsense attitude.’ No other Indian cricketer has what Dhoni has. He has a freshness that resonates easily with clients. Sachin Tendulkar, Pandey claims, can look reasonably cute but, barring one or two ads, he’s barely smiled and his voice delivery has always been less than perfect. Saurav Ganguly grinned with immense difficulty, which made life quite hard for his brand manager. As for Rahul ‘The Wall’ Dravid, his very moniker came from his composure, both on and off the crease, which didn’t augur well for his ability to smile on cue for the camera. Anil Kumble, the epitome of the serious captain, was always seen gravely considering the next step rather than beaming at his teammates. Smiling was not associated with top cricketers – until Dhoni lit up television screens with his quick, spontaneous and bright smile.

Interestingly, Balki is not the lone ranger to espouse the cause of the Indian cricket captain – who is currently said to be worth a staggering 350 crore rupees, a conservative estimate say some – in the advertising world. ‘He symbolizes the perfect Indian,’ says Pandey, creative head of Ogilvy & Mather India. ‘A small-town boy who made it big through hard work – it’s the dream of every middle-class family in India,’ he adds.

It would seem that the attention mega-load seems to be piggybacking not on Dhoni’s star quality, but his straightforward ordinariness. His easy-going, laid-back, boy-next-door image seems to be the key to his appeal with a huge cross-section of viewers. Future Brands boss Santosh Desai sees Dhoni embodying the values of an emergent India. ‘He represents more than the son of the soil tag that Kapil Dev carried for years,’ he says.

Desai – considered among the finest Indian analysts of brands – says he’d be very surprised if Dhoni wasn’t so popular. ‘He is good-looking, aggressive without being hysterical, unflappable. He is successful as the captain of the Indian cricket team. He’s the kind of captain Indians have always wanted,’ he says.

If one wants to really track the popularity chart of endorsements by cricketers and the kind of price tags they have commanded, one needs to look no further than the historic Boost advertisement. It has worked almost like a barometer of who is the contemporary favourite cricketer in the world of advertising – and the price he commands.

In 1986, Boost paid legendary all-rounder Kapil Dev 1.75 lakh to say: ‘Boost is the secret of my energy.’ Little less than a decade later, Dev was replaced by another legend, Sachin Tendulkar who was paid 5 crore to say the exact same line.

In March 2008, Boost signed on Dhoni. ‘There is no doubt that after Sachin, Dhoni is the next big cricketing name in the advertising world. He is cool and calm under immense pressure, and a very stable guy. His small-town background is an added factor,’ says veteran ad filmmaker Prahlad Kakkar. Manish Porwal, CEO of Percept Talent Management agrees with Kakkar. Dhoni, to Porwal, is a self- made guy from a small town, which is a great asset to have in this country, which supports the underdog much more than the powerful. Plus, Dhoni is a multi-faceted talent with increased popularity and image all over the country. ‘He has the benefit of leading a fairly successful team, better than in the past,’ he adds.

But is there anything miraculous about Brand Dhoni? ‘No, really, he is never seen as a miracle as Tendulkar was. Rather he is durable and real, which make him a favourite,’ says Prabhat Sinha, who was associated with Boost’s campaign with Kapil Dev and is now a marketing consultant.

For example, telecom giant Aircel hired Dhoni for its ‘Save the Tiger’ campaign because, he embodied the values that the brand wanted to project – simple, creative, trustworthy, and appealing to a wide range of people. Everybody, from a child to a grandfather, likes him.

At present with 19 brands and a number of special-appearance deals under his belt, it is believed that Dhoni charges close to 5 crore for every brand he endorses, and each deal typically runs for three years. That computes in at a cool 95 crore a year. While some deals are committed for three years, there are others such as Pepsi and Reebok which are reportedly for ten years each. In fact, Pepsi and Reebok deals with Dhoni are said to be worth close to 100 crores.

In addition to the endorsements, Reebok is launching a Dhoni line, from which he will receive royalties. ‘Also, brands wanting him to stay away from rivals or allied categories by use of an exclusivity clause typically have to pay him more,’ points out Balki.

When brands enter into a deal with a sportsperson, performance-based incentives are built into the contract. So in case of Brand Dhoni, incentives based on scoring a ton or crossing a milestone would be in addition to the base price of the contract. This base price remains intact if he is injured and cannot play. In the event of him getting dropped or losing his captaincy, marketers say it is only the performance-based incentives that get impacted; the contract remains intact.

In 2013, Forbes put Dhoni at 15, a high from 2012’s 31 ranking, in its list of the richest sportspersons, ahead of Usain Bolt, Novak Djokovic, and Wayne Rooney. Of the $26.5 million he earned, $23 million came from endorsements, nearly 40 per cent more than what Sachin Tendulkar got from plugging brands and products.

But most interesting part about Brand Dhoni is not that it is pan-India, and that the advertisers are queuing up outside his door, but the fact that till date, Dhoni is the first and the only Indian cricketer to have his own endorsement company, a company that was created after he split with Gameplan, the company that first represented him. Not many know what triggered the split, but it is rumored that Dhoni was distinctly uncomfortable with the agent-commission syndrome that dominates world cricket. ‘If I have to earn, I must earn it directly,’ he told Banerjee’s employee, Judhajit Banerjee, before the two decided to set up Mindscape Maestros together.

While not every cricketer in the Blue Billion Express signed up with Dhoni’s own agency, Mindscape Maestros still had a fair crop of the current players. In fact, it had also signed Bollywood actor John Abraham.

With Dhoni in company, Judhajit Banerjee started planning mega events: he organized Kolkata’s biggest fashion show in April 2013 and some time ago, formed another company, Purple People, with Pranay Dhelia, a Kolkata-based young businessman and classmate of Abhishek Dalmiya, son of former ICC chairman and Cricket Association of Bengal (CAB) president Jagmohan Dalmiya. The plan was to pick up the fresh talent like Ravendra Jadeja, a member of the Indian T20 team; Cheteswar Pujara, the highest scorer in Ranji Trophy in 2008; and Tamil Nadu’s Murali Vijay, who had already played two Tests in 2008 against the visiting Australian team in the absence of a suspended Gautam Gambhir.

But that honeymoon did not last long as internal differences led to a split between Judhajit and Dhoni.

And then, with the trademark speed that he scores his runs and wins matches, Dhoni signed on 12 July 2010, a 200-crore endorsement and talent management deal that took him past the legendary Tendulkar in the corporate contract sweepstakes. In 2006, Tendulkar had signed a 3-year deal for 180 crore with sports management firm Iconix, making him the richest cricketer then.

In 2010, Dhoni, arguably India’s most expensive sportsman, snapped up a three-year deal with sports and talent management firms Rhiti Sports Management and Mindscapes One which would, through a joint venture, manage Dhoni’s long list of endorsements and brand associations, corporate profile, patents and digital rights, images, visibility on social networking sites and merchandise.

Rhiti Sports is headed by Arun Pandey, a confidante and business associate of Dhoni, while Mindscapes One is owned by Pratik Sen, who had been managing the cricketer’s endorsements for more than a year. Pandey formed his company in 2007 and named it after one of the several forms of goddess Durga, the presiding deity at the Deori Mata near Ranchi.

Dhoni’s stock rose ever since Rhiti began managing him. The World Cup win the following year gave his image the ‘best possible’ boost, says Pandey. Before Dhoni signed with Rhiti, he used to get 2.5 crore to 3 crore per brand. Once the deal was on, he started getting more than three times the figure ( 10-12 crore). Now compare this one with the 1995 deal Mark Mascarenhas of WorldTel signed with Sachin Tendulkar and offered the Master Blaster $7.5 million for a period of five years. Till Mascarenhas struck the deal with Tendulkar, Indian cricket had not heard of image building. There was the odd-man Salim Durrani promoting Brylcreem and Sunil Gavaskar appearing for Digjam suitings and Thums Up advertisements. Kapil Dev’s brand stock went up after the 1983 World Cup win, he got into endorsing shoes, cycles, and Palmolive shaving cream for decent cash. But in Dhoni’s case, it was different. Dhoni, who won the inaugural T20 World Cup, and then the 2011 big cup, instantly walked into a world of untold riches.

Some argue that there was a time when Mumbai-based Percept Holdings and Sports Management soared high because it had Sourav Ganguly, the captain of the cricket team (2000 to 2005) but then it was Ganguly himself who messed his image with a series of controversies, the lowest point being his slugfest with coach Greg Chappell.

‘He did not look into the future, Dhoni did,’ says Goyal.

Goyal remembers one of Dhoni’s early moves to build his own brand. Dhoni struck a deal with NDTV for exclusive interviews, views, and special shows and succeeded in style. A couple of years later, as India won the T20 World Cup, Dhoni was the toast of India. His open bus parade brought the country’s financial capital to a standstill. Next day, the newspapers called him Captain Cool.

Everyone is loving the Indian cricket captain. Consider this one from Vinod K. Dasari, MD of Chennai-based bus and truck maker Ashok Leyland, which for the first time hired a brand ambassador in as many as 60 years. And the choice? It had to be Dhoni, says Dasari of a man he feels is an ideal son of the soil.

Apart from Dhoni, Rhiti Sports manages cricketers R.P. Singh and Harbhajan Singh as well. In 2012, they signed Saina Nehwal for a whopping 40 crore, the best ever offered to an Indian shuttler.

At least nine talent management firms such as IMG, Percept Group, Sunil Gavaskar-promoted PMG, World Sport Group, Purple People, and Planman Consulting had vied with each other to sign Dhoni, as typically an agency gets a fee of up to 30 per cent of the total endorsement charges of a celebrity it manages.

In Dhoni’s case, he himself works with the team to pick his brands. Those close to him claim that Dhoni is increasingly becoming very picky about the brands he endorses. Bobby Agarwal, COO, Godrej Hershey, says he was immensely surprised when he interacted with the man himself. Dhoni made it clear that he was realizing, the hard way, that he was stretching his brand image and had been advised by his friends to become choosy about the brands he partners. ‘I valued his sentiments because I realized he, unlike other celebrities, was not in a great hurry. He was like the Aamir Khan of Indian cricket: arrival with a bang, a number of hits and now only classy films. I told him he was on the right track and that it would serve him well in the long run,’ says Agarwal, who by then knew that he had picked the best choice for his brand.

Does he still remember Dhoni’s exact words? Agarwal says he was so impressed by what Dhoni had said that he took the lines from the notes his team had taken during the meeting. Dhoni had said: ‘I feel I am a person for the masses. I see how honest is the company who wants to sign me.’

CelebZ, a study by GroupM, had once ranked Dhoni fourth after Tendulkar, Dravid, and Sehwag amongst cricketers. But now, the Ranchi trailblazer has been numero uno for almost a year. Says Mindshare Insights’ national director Sanchayeeta Bhattacharya: ‘I think the transformation has happened with Dhoni. Taking over the captaincy has already added a totally new dimension to the life and times of this handsome, flashy cricketer.’

Percept Holdings joint MD Shailendra Singh predicts a hundred per cent jump for the India cricket captain: ‘Mark my words. He will see his endorsement rates double, treble and go through the roof. He is one of those rare, rarest cricketers who will perform under pressure and remain a favourite among marketers.’

Singh finds instant support from two other marketers. Says Videocon International joint president Sunil Mehta: ‘We selected Dhoni because of his performance and the popularity he had gained. We are confident that he will emerge as a great team player besides being the skipper.’ Reebok India MD Subinder Singh Prem agrees: ‘This is a great investment. Our campaigns are personality-oriented and Dhoni will create a great space, a special space.’

Does this mean Dhoni has matured? The Indian cricket captain understands his uniqueness and that it is not easily substitutable. Hence, he wants to sign on big brands only, develop his own style, look and feel. ‘A cricketer has to be aware of his brand image and develop it maturely and concisely. In my initial days, I would not care too much about such issues but with passing time, I have – finally – come to realize that it is important that one gets associated with brands that reflect one’s stature in the game,’ says Dhoni.

Desai, who had advised retail magnate Kishore (Pantaloons) Biyani to select none other than Dhoni when the group wanted an icon who would push more crowds through the gates of Big Bazaar. ‘It had to be Dhoni because he gives you an earthy, honest feeling. In fact, there is not a single other cricketer in India who exudes such an earthy feeling and looks,’ adds Desai.

And then, he explained the logic through the campaign Mudra fashioned for the Ranchi lad. As the Big Bazaar ambassador, Dhoni exhorts India’s youthful masses, Desh badlo, bhesh badlo (To change the country, change the way you look). The advertising campaign was launched to coincide with the IPL Twenty20, and the four commercials were crude in their simplicity: how you look is who you are. Bobby Pawar, chief creative officer, Mudra Communications, the agency that created the ads, has a great explanation: ‘There are no positives in life to dressing badly – unless you are a saint. As a result, it doesn’t matter if the ads end up celebrating class prejudice and discrimination at its most offensive. I would say it offers a statement that is in sync with the masses of the nation.’

The message? To earn respect, or to have any standing you must look smart and be well turned out – otherwise, in a superficial world, you could be mistaken for a thief just because you are scruffily dressed. That’s the mistake the girl in the ad makes – after Dhoni is smartened up, she thinks the mistake is hers; earlier, she thought he’d stolen her mobile. Other scenarios make the same point. The ads are all about aspiration dressing, and Dhoni perfectly represents the aspirations of middle-class India.

Interestingly, brand managers say the Dhoni phenomenon has a strong linguistic element that is often overlooked: ‘People have got the Dhoni phenomenon wrong. I don’t think his provincial background is the reason for his popularity. Even Sehwag and Yuvraj have a similar background. What makes him different is his accented angrezi. He has moved from his provincial image to a more metropolitan outlook, which makes him attractive to the middle class, who speak English or have the aspiration to speak English,’ says Desai.

That may indeed be what makes the nation’s new mascot sell everything, from cement, to pens, to phones, bikes, soft drinks and potato chips. Ranchi’s wonder boy is today India’s wonder man, letting that quirky, almost awkward smile propel viewers towards the products he endorses.

Dhoni has overtaken every other national celebrity, from Bollywood stars to other sportspeople. Whoever they are, and whatever their level of star power, Dhoni has hit them for of those out-of-the stadium boundaries in his trademark lappa, or the helicopter shot. A shot that belongs to Dhoni and Dhoni alone. 8

Chatty Selectors vs Dhoni Power

An accomplished all-rounder, Mohinder Amarnath lived in both heaven and hell during his cricketing years. He played 69 matches for India over a span of two decades, and even earned the coveted Man of the Match award in the finals of the 1983 ICC World Cup, India’s moment of triumph. Yet, during the same period, the in-form Amarnath, for reasons unknown, was dropped by the selectors from 64 other matches.

But the affable Amarnath took everything in his stride. He came from a family whose members had often drawn flak from the BCCI for being outspoken. In fact, his father the flamboyant Lala Amarnath, was sent home after a brawl during an infamous English tour of 1936.

Twenty-five years ago, Amarnath (Mohinder) had called the Indian selectors ‘a bunch of jokers’ and then been duly sacked by them. That was a nightmarish moment for one of India’s finest all-rounders, but Amarnath had put it behind him and moved on in life. And ironically in 2010, the BCCI brought him back as a selector.

But Amarnath had not changed. He made it clear to the BCCI that, as a selector he was meant to concentrate on the national selection and push for the selection of the best team possible. And, under no circumstances, should he be pushed to ‘accommodate undeserving candidates’.

This attitude was of course not appreciated by the BCCI top brass (read the all powerful president, N. Srinivasan). But there were no fireworks, ostensibly because Amarnath was now seen as a moderate selector who – actually – was not making things difficult for the four other members of the selection committee. In short, he did not start out by asking for the heads of some top players in the side.

But Amarnath could be reined in only for so long. The two disastrous series in England and Australia right after the 2011 ICC World Cup triumph had made the Goa-based Amarnath sit up and wonder whether or not it was time to replace the skipper of the side, Mahendra Singh Dhoni. It was a tough call but he wanted it to happen.

Suggesting the same in the selection room was akin to committing harakiri, simply because the Indian skipper’s proximity to Srinivasan was known to one and all. To compound matters, Dhoni was also the skipper of the Chennai Super Kings, an IPL team reportedly owned by Srinivasan’s son-in-law, Meyippan Gurumurthy. Later, Gurumurthy – in the spot-fixing scandal during IPL 2013 – denied he had anything to do with the team and that he was a ‘normal worker’.

As was expected, the other selectors disagreed including the chief selector Krishnamachari Srikkanth, who – surprisingly – was also one of the brand ambassadors for Chennai Super Kings. Amarnath pushed Gautam Gambhir’s – who was more consistent with the bat – name for captaincy of the Test team. There were others like former India opener Sunil Gavaskar who wanted Virat Kohli to head the ODI side. And while Amarnath was asking for a new Test captain, he was also not averse to India having a new ODI captain as well.

The news, as usual, had already leaked to the media.

Amarnath was unprepared for what lay ahead of him. While the selection committee meeting was still going on, the convener of the meeting, Sanjay Jagdale, called up Srinivasan and let him know what Amarnath’s stance was. Jagdale’s call was unwarranted because the selectors are not meant to inform the BCCI president of everything they do. At least that’s what the BCCI has always maintained to prove that it’s a professional body. But in reality, it’s exactly the opposite. Srinivasan, reportedly playing golf in Chennai then with his business partners, was aghast. Furious, he went straight home, picked up a BCCI rulebook and found what he was looking for: if a team has been finalized, then it must be ratified by the president. No questions asked. With Srinivasan’s veto powers, the plan to push Dhoni out of captaincy fell flat. But something worse happened.

The news of Amarnath’s stance as a selector and Srinivasan’s opposition to it spread like wildfire. Soon it was apparent that the knives were, slowly yet surely, out for Amarnath, one of India’s finest cricketers and a very knowledgeable analyst of the game.

Amarnath had served his term as a selector and now it was time for him to get a promotion and become the chairman of the selection committee. As expected, it was a role that the veteran cricketer was looking forward to.

On 18 September 2012, Amarnath was on the verge of being made the chairman of the BCCI selection committee (as per the rotation policy), but a terse phone call from a top BCCI official (rumoured in the newspapers to be N. Srinivasan) spoilt the show for him. Not only was Amarnath not made the chairman, he was also sacked from the selection panel reportedly for a series of decisions he had taken as north zone selector.

Amarnath could only laugh: it was probably the last time in his illustrious career that he would be humiliated by the world’s richest cricket board. He switched off his handset to avoid calls from prying television reporters keen to hook him up on their networks for the mandatory chat with the anchor. Everyone wanted to hear his story. But Amarnath kept quite.

He then switched on his i-Pad and wrote a few lines in Urdu on his Facebook page. Translated, it read:

My soul yearns to forsake this world And its selfish and heartless way; Where beats of heart do speak of – lies and deceit at play. Know not divine rule of life – the debts we all must pay. One of the earliest responses to his post was from his wife, Bickoo, who wrote: ‘They will pay for their betrayal, one way or the other. God is great. Sab dekhta hai.’

There were several reasons for Amarnath’s departure, among which were: he was not politically correct; he had asked for skipper Dhoni’s head after the disastrous tour in England and Australia; he insisted on dropping out-of-form players from the national selection to play domestic cricket to regain form (the list even included the legendary Sachin Tendulkar). Moreover, Amarnath had donated a bat belonging to his father to Cricket Australia because he felt the memorabilia would be treasured more by CA than by BCCI which – till date – has not been able to set up a home for such memorabilia. This act was seen as being sacrilegious by the gods of Indian cricket (read BCCI).

Earlier, Amarnath had vented his ire on Facebook on not seeing a single BCCI official at Rahul Dravid’s farewell party. He had written: ‘During Rahul Dravid’s felicitation, none of the top BCCI officials were present – very sad – but cricketers from all over the country were there – cheers to Rahul and fellow cricketers.’ More troubles followed for Amarnath when a BCCI official posed the following query to the president: Amarnath lived in Goa, which was not exactly a cricketing hub, so how could Jimmy (Amarnath’s nickname) shape Indian cricket. The official response from the BCCI was calm and composed. ‘This (dropping Amarnath) is the decision of the BCCI and one cannot go into reasons. But a possible reason could be that the BCCI wanted a new-look selection committee,’ board president N. Srinivasan said.

Once more Indian cricket had been redefined by its hidden rules. The Amarnath episode made it explicit that it was important for a cricketer to have good relations with the selectors to gain entry into the national selection and retain that position. At the same time, the hidden rule for the selector was to secure the confidence of the chief selector and also the board’s top brass. But Amarnath was seen flouting both rules, as a cricketer first and then as a selector. He had to go.

The only person to defy the rule was Sunil Gavaskar, who got away after publicly denouncing the selectors as ‘court jesters’. The other, lesser mortals would dare not criticize the board and its functioning.

Central to this controversy was the country’s cricket captain, Dhoni and his shrewd understanding of the backroom politics that is the domain of the selectors. Throughout the Amarnath issue, the Indian skipper did not utter a word, except to tell reporters that changing a captain does not necessarily improve the side’s fortunes. Dhoni knew he had Srinivasan’s support. He had nothing to worry about. He also had first-hand knowledge of how the selectors operated and knew that they could create tensions for some of the biggest stars in the side.

The Indian captain knew how cricket selectors in India have managed to hog – at least – the same amount of limelight and headline space as cricket and cricketers in India. Once upon a time, they even used to write columns to indicate their preference of players – a practice which was eventually banned by the BCCI. While the selectors were wild about the decision to ban their columns there really wasn’t much that they could do about it. There have been countless occasions where selectors have been accused of partisanship – one television channel sting revealed the rampant corruption in the selection process by exposing selectors who were seeking cash for plugging candidates in state-level cricket. The country’s intelligence agencies have often reported how some selectors openly interact with bookies, even inviting them to family weddings.

Dhoni’s first brush with the selectors took place when he was called to Delhi for the Railway trials in 2002 and it was not a happy experience. But ever since he became the Indian cricket captain, he learnt from his fellow cricketers and friends ways to handle the selectors. He also learnt how to be on the ‘right side’ of selectors every time.

Dhoni’s learning lessons were triggered by an interesting incident. A story that came to his attention when he was just getting into the groove of the game, was that of V.B. Chandrasekhar. The Tamil Nadu opener of yesteryear was a competent Ranji level player, and later assumed the role of a national selector. It was in 2005 when Chandrasekhar had a bitter argument with a fellow selector from the East Zone, Pranab Roy, over retaining Saurav Ganguly as the Indian captain. The captaincy debate – those who know claim – centered on personalities, not performances. The incident took place when India was to visit Zimbabwe to play a tri-series involving the hosts and New Zealand. Up till then, for close to five years, the Bengal southpaw’s appointment as captain had been a foregone conclusion, with selectors proposing his name over a cup of tea and signing the needed documents on the BCCI letterheads before leaving for the airport and heading home.

However, this time around, Chandrasekhar wanted Dravid to replace Ganguly and mentioned that even coach Greg Chappell was keen for a change. An initial invitation issued to Chappell to join the 13 August 2005 selection meeting was later withdrawn inexplicably. Chappell later told the selectors that he would not like to comment on the captaincy issue.

Just before it began, BCCI Joint Secretary Goutam Dasgupta left abruptly saying he didn’t expect the meeting to last long. The meeting started a little after 3 p.m. and ended around 4.45 p.m. Four of the selectors, Kiran More, Pranab Roy, Yashpal and Gopal Sharma favoured Ganguly while Chandrasekhar backed Dravid. This standoff eventually triggered a two-hour argument between Chandrasekhar and Roy.

Roy mooted the long-standing proposal to name Ganguly as the skipper, arguing that this committee had not had the opportunity to name a captain for a year. But his suggestion did not find favour with most of the selectors who felt it would be unfair to do so when their term was nearing its end and that it would be most appropriate to leave it to the new selection committee that would be in place in the last week of September. Still, they favoured Ganguly over Dravid. Dhoni read all about the meeting from newspaper reports. He was aware how tough it is to be a captain and retain the slot in India. He realized cricket was part-politics.

Later, in another team selection meeting in November 2005 for the three Test home series against the visiting Sri Lankans, Roy again pushed for Ganguly’s inclusion. With his candidate no longer the captain, Roy wanted him included as an all-rounder over an in-form Zaheer Khan in the side. This time around Chandrasekhar backed Zaheer. In fact, Chandrasekhar had ridiculed Roy in the meeting for blindly backing Ganguly and pointed out that the former skipper had never been considered an all- rounder in the side.

However, just a few months later in January 2006, Chandrasekhar sang a completely different tune. He praised Ganguly’s batting in the ongoing Bengal-Tamil Nadu Ranji trophy match, saying that it was good to see the left-hander getting into form ahead of the gruelling series against Pakistan. ‘It was heartening to see Ganguly getting into rhythm. The footwork, timing and focus to play a long innings seemed well in place ahead of the tour,’ Chandrasekhar told reporters after Ganguly struck a well-made 59 in the first innings for Bengal at the Eden Gardens.

The former selector added that he was also impressed by Ganguly’s aggressive bowling. ‘He was never negative and that is a positive sign.’ Ganguly had picked up three crucial wickets on the opening day of the match before he was barred from bowling for repeatedly straying into the pitch. ‘The passion and pride for his team is worth emulating,’ Chandrasekhar said. Asked to assess Ganguly as an all-rounder, Chandrasekar even said the former skipper was more than a handy bowler in conditions assisting seam movement. ‘It was already a surprise to me that he bowled less when he was in-charge. Perhaps he knew his strength all along,’ Chandrasekhar added.

Dhoni was aware of both these incidents. His friends had warned him about this cat and mouse game played by the chatty selectors and nosey reporters. He had been cautioned about the sudden U-turns (read denying everything they said within months) made by selectors.

Dhoni wanted to make what was going on with the selection committee with him at the centre of it, a thing of past. How he did it is indeed an interesting tale.

Ever since he became the captain of the national team, Dhoni had told the then BCCI top man, Sharad Pawar and other officials that it was imperative to maintain privacy during selection committee meetings. In fact, the Indian skipper was not happy with news of the selection discussions leaking out every now and then. Dhoni had been surprised at how his decision to drop both Ganguly and Dravid during the ODI series in Australia was public knowledge within hours of concluding the meeting – which had taken place via tele-conferencing. In fact, he had told a friend: ‘How do they know what we talked about during something as important as a tele-conference? It is amazing. Who leaks such confidential news after the meeting?’ He had no definitive answers; those who did offer a name, had no evidence to back it up. They merely hinted at some selectors’ proximity to certain reporters.

Once he had been named captain, Dhoni had hoped that the selectors would mend their ways and avoid such occurrences in the future. He knew it was bad for the players and bad for the game if leaks continued to filter into the media. He had, in the past, heard stories about how Ganguly had routinely dropped Kumble – especially during the 2003 ICC World Cup in South Africa – to accommodate Harbhajan Singh and his decision to do so was systematically leaked to the media. Dhoni had not liked it. Why don’t we value our players, especially someone as senior as Kumble, he had asked then. No answers had been forthcoming. In typical Dhoni style, the skipper one day decided to take the bull by the horns. On 21 November 2007, he openly expressed his disgust over ‘leaks’ from closed-door selection committee meetings (especially after the selectors’ meeting in Kanpur a few days earlier), but stopped short of denying reports of differences with the national selectors.

At the meeting in Kanpur, Dhoni had strongly opposed the decision to drop left-arm fast bowler R.P. Singh for the final four ODIs of the series against England, to make room for Irfan Pathan. Singh was part of the national selection for Bangladesh, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka tours but ended up making way – repeatedly – for Zaheer Khan, Munaf Patel and Ishant Sharma in the playing eleven. In two one-dayers against England in November 2007, he had given away 74 runs for one wicket from nine overs. Irfan had last played a Test in April 2007 and was dropped from the side after failing to impress in the ODIs in Sri Lanka. But in the year’s Ranji season he had bowled with renewed zeal and picked up 12 wickets in two matches.

Two papers hyped the story. One was the Kolkata-based Ananda Bazar Patrika (ABP) and the other the Sunday Indian Express. In fact, one selector told the Sunday Indian Express: ‘Dhoni was quite upset and angry when we decided to drop RP. There was a heated exchange on this issue during the meeting. Some things were said but this happens.’ Meanwhile, the ABP reported that Dhoni had told the selectors that he would quit if he didn’t have his way. The report explained in detail all that had transpired between the enraged skipper and the national selectors.

Dhoni was not amused. He admitted – on the eve of the fourth ODI in Bangalore – that the reports, especially the one in ABP, had created a bit of a problem for him, especially regarding his immediate dealings with R.P. Singh and Irfan Pathan. ‘In a scenario like this, you have to get in touch with both R.P. Singh and Irfan Pathan and ensure that there are no differences,’ Dhoni told reporters at the venue of the ODI. ‘RP shouldn’t feel that I’m going out of the way in supporting him, nor should Irfan feel unwanted.’

The confidentiality between the captain and the selectors should be respected at all times, argued Dhoni, adding: ‘I don’t know where the reports came from. What happens inside while the selectors and the captain are there, if it comes out, it is disgusting and disrespectful. I think if they are supposed to come out, it’s better [that] we have live television in the room there. What happens, nobody should know apart from the eight guys who are sitting down.’

Dhoni was emphatic that such leaks were detrimental for the game and asked the newspapers to name the selector who had leaked the news: ‘It would be good for Indian cricket if you quote that person.’ The then BCCI vice-president and Finance Committee Chairman Rajeev Shukla – true to his style – tried to hush up the issue and denied the reports instantly. ‘The reports are baseless and we cannot comment on such reports. There were no differences between the selectors and Dhoni,’ said Shukla. Everyone knew he was being economical with the truth.

Dhoni, meanwhile, was still sulking. What was the point of meeting in secrecy to decide who would be in and who would be out of the national team if the details were out in the media hours before the official announcement? No wonder the selectors were the butt of jokes. However, they still didn’t get it. Why? Dhoni was desperate for an answer.

It seemed to him that over time someone had institutionalized the format of leaking news. How does it work, he asked his friends? In the days of state-controlled television and no 24/7 breaking news, the format worked with a handful of reporters who would hang around the toilets of the offices of the particular cricket board where the meeting was being held. And through nods and finger signals, veteran journalists would instantly follow the ins and outs of the team from selectors heading for the washroom.

Those were the days when print media was predominant. For the newspaper reporters, knowing the team beforehand was also a bit of an exercise in ego boosting. One earned brownie points for letting the editor know in advance who all would be included in the team, particularly when one was proved right the next day.

That used to happen during the days when cricketers such as Kapil Dev, Sunil Gavaskar, Srinivas Venkatraghavan, K. Srikkanth and Mohammed Azharuddin were playing. And continued even later when Ajay Jadeja, Sachin Tendulkar, Saurav Ganguly, Anil Kumble, and Rahul Dravid came into the game. All top players had their favourite reporters (and they still exist today) who would routinely push such news in advance and also splash the inside dope about the ‘confidential’ meetings with great pride.

Dhoni – much to his frustration – came into the game in the era of live television and the madness of breaking news. The news market was flooded by a plethora of channels and, for obvious reasons, the demand for cricket news (it is, after all, one of the four Cs of broadcast news, the other three being Cinema, Comedy, and Crime) was on an all-time high, as channels vied to outdo each other in the broadcast of scoops.

At times, the channel would get it totally wrong and run with a half-baked story. The one that had Dhoni in tears was the one regarding the death of his pet dog: the television channels said the animal had died of shame because of the pathetic performance of the Indian skipper. ‘Blame me, my cricket, my performance, why my pet?’ said the distraught Indian skipper as he was comforted by his close team mates Suresh Raina and Virat Kohli.

BCCI officials, also aware of the incident, asked Dhoni if he needed them to speak to the channel heads. Dhoni’s response was a terse ‘No’. Earlier, there had been occasions when exasperated BCCI officials would call up the sports editors of the erring channels and demand an apology for having pushed inaccurate Breaking News hours before the team was announced. The channel would stop for a while but again resume the headlines, typically minutes before the official press conference was to start. ‘I have stopped calling them because it is of no use. Otherwise, we will have to issue legal notices to a majority of the channels. They drive me mad day in and day out with their inane phone calls and phony stories,’ Niranjan Shah, a top BCCI official, once said in an interview.

And bulk of the breaking news stemmed from one issue: disagreements between selectors and skippers. These are not uncommon in any cricketing nation but in India they always assumed a larger- than-life proportion. However, unlike Amarnath’s open comment about the selectors, not many had taken on the members of the selection committee publicly. By making his displeasure known openly, Dhoni had for the first time, ticked the selectors off. In short, he had publicly asked them to mend their ways.

By doing so, Dhoni had also triggered a serious debate over how much of a say a captain should have in picking his side. Cricket cognoscenti agreed that the captain’s issues with the selection committee – besides making great copy for the front page or the 9 p.m. news headlines – was also an issue that had long been ignored by the BCCI. Yet, no one had taken the pains to resolve it.

But Dhoni wanted the debate to be resolved and in fact, told a few confidants that he was sanguine that behind every leak was an interested party. The Indian skipper – for obvious reasons – was curious to explore why one selector or the other repeatedly leaked sensitive information? What is it that they had to gain?

He, however, did not want to speculate. He told his friends it was pointless, because unless one had a recording of a conversation with the journalist in question, no one would know for sure who it was – although Dhoni was pretty sure about the ‘little birds’ of the selection committee. And he had – by using the media – expressed his disgust at the selectors. It was a strategic move on Dhoni’s part not to confirm whether he had offered or had been threatened to step down, but by not denying it he actually allowed people to assume there was some truth in the suggestion. Through this exercise he had told the world that he would no longer tolerate any nonsense.

The ruse worked.

Many termed this as his masterstroke. ‘He told the media what he thinks of such leaks and sent a strong message to the selectors,’ said former skipper Srikkanth who was to later become the chief selector.

Dhoni’s basic point was simple: the captain is only as good as his team and at the end of the day it is the skipper’s head which is on the line if the team fails to perform. He was clear that the selectors should understand that when he felt strongly about a certain player he would, as the captain, express his view strongly. ‘I knew this incident could vitiate the atmosphere in the dressing-room. Just how much faith will RP have in the captain if he could not sway the selectors? How much confidence will Irfan have, if he believes the report that his captain threatened to quit when the selectors picked him in place of RP? And imagine the kind of sledging when Irfan takes the field?’ Dhoni told a confidant.

Dhoni also shared an incident where Irfan was distinctly uncomfortable interacting with the Indian skipper at a team dinner. Dhoni had to drag him to the table and tell him that he should not believe what is written in the media. ‘I told him that the media had romantically linked him repeatedly to tennis star Sania Mirza. Did he take those news stories seriously? So why bother about what the media wrote about a selection meeting?’ Almost an hour after this conversation, Irfan began to look relaxed.

For the time being, the selectors did not confront the Indian captain. They knew Dhoni had got Pawar and a handful of top players – including Tendulkar – to back him. But they all fumed privately. And why not? After all, the media had tarred the selectors black, calling their behaviour unprofessional. Still, the board remained silent. Emboldened, Dhoni decided to take a second step. He called the man in charge, Sharad Pawar, one of the most influential cabinet ministers in the central UPA government. ‘It needs to change immediately, sir,’ Dhoni told Pawar. He added: ‘If Indian cricket has to get professionalism in its blood. Some things must change. How can I finalize a team if the selectors continue to leak stories to the media?’

Soon after Dhoni walked out of his meeting with Pawar, the Maharashtra strongman called all selectors individually and told them how upset he was with their behaviour. ‘I am not privy to what you people decide about the team but its rank unprofessional to discuss such sensitive issues with the media. Why can’t you all maintain a bit of privacy?’ The selectors got the message loud and clear.

But what prompted Dhoni to take on the selectors? He knew that he was not in the wrong in his selection and that the captain must have the team he desires. And furthermore, the process of team selection which is the most crucial element in building a successful unit can either be charged or vitriolic. Everyone expects passionate arguments, even fights when picking the best possible side. But once the task is complete, the selectors have to present a united front, believed Dhoni.

Dhoni wanted to nip the tendencies of the selectors to play petty politics, in the bud and by having Pawar on his side, the Indian captain had achieved the near impossible.

A couple of years later, Dhoni’s luck ran out. After the glory of India’s 2011 World Cup victory came two disastrous back-to-back tours of England and Australia. The Indian team faltered badly, losing eight Tests on the trot.

The selectors were once again back on the top.

Dhoni was far from his cheerful self. After losing the Boxing Day Test to the hosts in Melbourne, Dhoni arrived in Sydney looking extremely unhappy. Honestly, it wasn’t just the loss that had left him peeved and tired, Dhoni was battling a larger crisis that revolved entirely around him: his limited say in the selection panel.

He told the Hindustan Times how he would give a list of players to the selectors only to find many of the players he wanted not named in the final squad. ‘I don’t have a say in the selection. I ask for certain players, send it in writing to the selectors and when the squad is announced their names are missing,’ Dhoni told the daily.

Interestingly, the newspaper dug more and found what Dhoni was saying was correct. For example, Rohit Sharma – after his fine showing in the ODI series in the Caribbean – was surprised to see himself out of the Test side despite a personal assurance by coach Duncan Fletcher. ‘After that innings (match- winning knock of 86 in Antigua), Duncan came up to me and said, “I can’t believe you’re not in the Test squad”,’ Sharma told the daily Hindustan Times in an interview soon after that tour. India had since played 11 Tests with Sharma still to make his Test debut.

What was more disturbing for Dhoni was the fact that in the past, both he and coach Fletcher had taken bold decisions. Interestingly, it was in Australia in 2009 that the Indian skipper had bluntly told the selectors that he didn’t want ageing heroes Ganguly and Dravid in the ODI tri-series that followed the Test series, and opted for younger faces. The strategy worked well as India won that series with many new names emerging. But once losses began, the selectors were back to their usual self of plugging semi-retired cricketers who were high on politics but low on performance.

The slugfest continued unabated. Dhoni, aware of this seemingly unending cold war between him and the selectors, realized what works best for the captain of the Indian cricket team: score wins and remain close to the power centre. As a result not only is Dhoni the skipper of Chennai Super Kings but also vice president of India Cement, a company promoted and owned by Srinivasan. Now he has the full confidence of the selectors – thanks to the team’s superlative performance in 2012-13 – and has effectively silenced what he has always considered to be the ‘troublesome Indian media’. 9 Wanderers Knight: The T20 World Cup

ESPN Star Sports’ seasoned commentator Alan Wilkins narrated this incident after returning to Singapore from South Africa, his former home where he spent his formative years playing cricket, drinking wine, and dating beautiful women.

The city: Johannesburg. Time: around 8.30 p.m. Day: 23 September 2007 – the day before India was slated to play arch-rival Pakistan in the final of the inaugural T20 World Cup at the 34,000 capacity Wanderers Stadium. Wilkins had always liked the Wanderers. For him, the stadium – also the home ground for the Highveld Lions who were once known as Gauteng of Transvaal – was special. During the apartheid era only whites used to play here. And when in 1991, South Africa gained readmission into international cricket, the local authorities wanted a total overhaul of the stadium. ‘It was built to host the big ties, the finals of world cricket. The organizers were very hopeful that some of the best matches in the world will be held at the Wanderers. And it happened,’ remembered Wilkins.

Indian skipper Mahendra Singh Dhoni and his team’s enfant terrible, S. Sreesanth stood in front of the huge glass window in Dhoni’s room in the majestic Hilton hotel. The window overlooked the classy Wanderers Stadium, home to many cricket tournaments. Just four years ago the stadium had hosted the 2003 ICC World Cup finals. Then also India was one of the finalists but lost the trophy to Australia in the end.

The team meeting had just been wrapped up and all players were in their respective rooms. The Kerala pacer had come to return a bat he had borrowed from his captain earlier for a light practice.

The two talked for a little over ten minutes, during which Dhoni told Sreesanth to maintain a decent line and length and not turn wayward with the ball. ‘There’s the trophy and loads of prestige at stake because it is a match with Pakistan.’ The pressure was high, very high. It was also Dhoni’s litmus test, having been named captain of the T20 side only a few months ago. Sreesanth, always exuberant, joked to his skipper: ‘Who knows, I could be involved in the final showdown of the finals.’ Dhoni just smiled and said, ‘Then you should certainly not mess up anything.’ Chastised, Sreesanth left in a huff.

Indian team members were flooded with hundreds and thousands of SMSs that clogged their handsets. The Indian skipper was no exception, his handset too beeped every now and then. Dhoni’s mind, however, was on other things. He knew what a loss to Pakistan would result in, just as he was aware of how a win over the arch-rivals could impact his career.

Dhoni was also acutely aware of the fact that he had been named captain for the tournament after some of the big stars of Indian cricket – Sachin Tendulkar, Saurav Ganguly, and Rahul Dravid – had opted out. He had gladly accepted the role and slipped into it as if he was born for it. And when he landed in Johannesburg with the rest of the team from London – only Virender Sehwag made his way directly from Mumbai – the tournament was yet to capture the popular or media imagination. And it was mainly because the T20 format had not yet registered on the minds of millions of cricket fans across the world, who were used to the standard formats of ODIs and Tests.

The initial matches did not do much to trigger people’s interest in the T20 World Cup; even the locals in South Africa were a bit skeptical of the whole thing. But what was interesting was that the tournament had its share of controversies right from the first day. And ironically, it was the controversies that directed people’s attention towards the T20 tournament. The first of these was that Pakistan’s temperamental speedster Shoaib Akhtar was sent back home for hitting teammate Mohammed Asif with a bat. The tournament gained further media visibility when Indian newspapers reported that Yuvraj Singh had claimed in an interview with a local daily that the T20 format was not good for cricket bats because some of the ones he had used – especially for trial matches – had already been damaged. It is however, a completely different story that in the semi-finals against England at Centurion, Yuvraj had hit six consecutive deliveries out of the field. Singh’s comments made headlines, with one daily even suggesting that BCCI had sent additional bats for the entire team. However, soon these controversial headlines made way for more on-field related ones, most notable of them being Singh’s over boundaries off six consecutive balls of an over against England.

It seemed that by now everyone was following the tournament.

The previous day Dhoni had asked his boys to take it easy and do something relaxing like watch a movie. That no one ventured out of the hotel was understandable. The pressure of playing in such a final was just too high. And the fact that the rival team was Pakistan added more tension to the already high-voltage match. Whenever the two teams have met, a large part of the game has revolved around prestige (read victory) and nothing else. No Indian cricketer wants to lose against Pakistan. If you were to ask members of the Pakistan team, the answer would be the same.

During the tournament, Dhoni had told his teammates: ‘I do not know why the media makes such an issue about everything associated with cricket in India. Perhaps they need every bit of a cricketer for their daily news updates. I have often told you to relax and watch a movie because cinema is a big part of our lives, isn’t it? My idea of watching a movie is to enjoy it at a multiplex. It’s best to inform the theatre owners that you want to come with your friends so that privacy is ensured. And Johannesburg is not a city where we would get mobbed. So why not watch a movie?’ No one responded. Not keen to think too much about his efforts to ease pressures before the final, Dhoni hit the bed.

But his mind was restless. Memories of another era kept him awake. If he won the final, it would be India’s first World Cup win after 1983. He was only two years old then and his parents did not even own a television set when that historic win took place. Dhoni wondered what would happen if he won the day, and that too with raw talent? When Kapil Dev lifted the ICC Prudential World Cup in 1983, R.P. Singh, one of Dhoni’s trusted bowlers, was not even born. Irfan Pathan, the other pacer from Vadodara was only a year old. Delhi’s Gautam Gambhir was a toddler, and Yuvraj the flashy all-rounder was, like Dhoni, only two years old. The Indian captain remembered what coach Ian Chappell had told him at the start of the tournament: ‘You will have to play, do not fear the words of these men. Play well, they will fear your cricket.’ Dhoni tried hard to sleep.

But his slumber was broken by the ringing of the phone. It was India’s megastar Shah Rukh Khan on the line: ‘Sleep well, you will win tomorrow.’ Khan hung up. Instantly, the phone rang again. This time it was the czar of Indian cricket, Lalit Modi: ‘Still awake? Sleep now and play well tomorrow. This is a big match for us.’

It was now the morning of 24 September 2007. Dhoni got the day’s first bit of bad news just as sunlight began to trickle into his room. Coach Lalchand Rajput had called him to discuss something serious. Dhoni asked him to wait. Around breakfast time, Rajput re-confirmed the rumour that was doing the rounds: Virender Sehwag, the team’s hardest hitter, was out of the side with a groin injury. There would have to be a replacement, right? Who would that be? Yusuf Pathan, instantly replied Dhoni, confident of Pathan’s hard-hitting abilities. He reminded Rajput of Pathan’s 100-plus strike rate in domestic cricket. Rajput agreed. The showdown began with a packed Wanderers stadium. Dhoni and his boys knew they had to win to ensure prestige and pride for both the team and millions of Indian fans. Seconds before the entire team walked out of the dressing room, the young captain remarked with steely determination: ‘Jeetna hai, ab to cup lekey hi India vaapas jayenge (We have to win the day, and must return to India with the trophy).’ An ICC security official found the Indians ‘extremely tense’ as they walked in and out of their dressing room. Everyone probably understood that it was a do or die situation for the Men in Blue. Dhoni was sure that he would not accept defeat. In fact, the captain had told some of his friends in India over the phone: ‘We should not lose. If we have to settle for something other than a win, I would prefer a tie and share the Cup. But I will not lose.’

The Blue Billion Express – thanks to some brilliant teamwork – had chugged on merrily into the finals, helping the side maintain its all-win record against their bitter foes in all World Cup matches. Every single Indian player knew, if ever there was a match to change their fortunes, this was it. This was the big day; this was indeed the big match.

Giving the team loads of support was 40-year-old Gary Kirsten, a former South African cricketer, who had been selected as coach of the Indian cricket team after Greg Chappell got the sack following the team’s unmitigated ICC World Cup disaster in the Caribbean islands. Gary knew the ground and knew what the Indians had to do to play a good game on South African soil. He knew the big guns of Indian cricket – Rahul Dravid, Sachin Tendulkar, and Saurav Ganguly – were not in the side and this was Dhoni’s first tournament as captain. Like the captain, the coach too was under immense pressure. But being a South African, he knew how the pitch would turn. He had tipped Dhoni adequately after the team’s morning meeting.

But in the final, good luck did not come India’s way easily. The large, flag-waving gathering of Indians at the Wanderers roared as India won the toss and chose to bat on a good pitch. The crowd gave the two Indian openers a standing ovation as they walked out in the middle. Yusuf Pathan, Irfan’s older brother, replaced Sehwag and opened the innings with Delhi’s left-hand batsman Gautam Gambhir. The showdown started. The crowd roared, beer flowed and every time Indian superstar Shah Rukh Khan, who was then sporting a ponytail, came to the balcony to smoke, there was near pandemonium. King Khan was not alone. He had his family and actresses Deepika Padukone – on a high because promos of her debut film Om Shanti Om were already out – Priyanka Chopra, Juhi Chawla, Rani Mukherjee, Diya Mirza, and Amisha Patel for company. And every time they would come out onto the balcony, the crowds would go ballistic. Hundreds of South Africans also filled the stands to see an India- Pakistan final. Cheap tickets worth Rand 160 (approximately 1200 rupees) were selling in the black for R 1200 (approximately 8400 rupees). The T20 fever had caught on and many ICC officials said it was the best cricket tournament since 1975.

There was high-voltage energy in the stands even before the first ball was bowled.

Taking his place, Pathan made his intentions clear from the very start, clobbering Mohammad Asif for a huge six in the very first over of the innings. The first over – thankfully – got 13 runs on the board for India. But in his next spell, Asif had his revenge when he had Pathan edging a pull for Shoaib Malik to take a well-judged catch at mid-on. Pathan returned dejected to the dressing room after scoring 15 off eight balls.

Cheers from the Indian spectators started dying as the team’s wickets began to fall like ninepins. It was pint-sized Gambhir who saved the day and slammed a swashbuckling 75 to prop up the total. The left- hander got his first 50 of the tournament, but the team failed to capitalize on a reasonably good start. In fact, youngster Rohit Sharma – who remained unbeaten on 35 – was the other notable contributor as the Men in Blue found the going tough in the face of the disciplined and accurate line and length bowling maintained by the Pakistani team. This allowed Pakistan to virtually take control of the game from the midway stage.

The Men in Green had Umar Gul, a lanky pacer, who played a big role in upsetting the tempo with a brilliant of 3 for 28 in just four overs. Among his wickets were those of Yuvraj Singh, Dhoni, and Gautam Gambhir. The failure of Yuvraj and Dhoni, two of India’s most explosive middle-order strikers – they had championed the team’s cause brilliantly in the run-up to the final – meant tension, stress, and more anxiety for the Men in Blue.

Yuvraj, who had made news earlier in the tournament with his blazing innings that included six sixes against England (poor Chris Broad had been at the receiving end of that Yuvi hurricane) and a great score against Australia, didn’t quite get going and remained a shadow of his flashy self during his 19- ball stay, before being dismissed for a paltry 14 runs. The lanky all-rounder from Punjab hit just one boundary before top-edging Umar Gul for an easy return catch. In the dressing room, someone told Dhoni that the Pakistanis, realizing Yuvraj’s prowess of hitting pacers all over, had deliberately planned to slow down his pace by introducing a host of spinners. Dhoni nodded his head in agreement. He realized that Yuvraj – always keen to hit the big ones – was at sea while playing those crafty Pakistani spinners.

Dhoni, who stepped out with loads of hope, didn’t impress either. Wilkins, who had stepped out of the commentary box and walked close to the ground, found the Indian skipper tense, very tense. Dhoni failed to handle some aggressive bowling by Gul. Despite being ‘no-balled’ for a beamer on the first delivery, Gul sent in a beauty that had Dhoni going for the big hit and missing the ball completely: his leg stump went flying. The Pakistani players were ecstatic, so were their fans who painted themselves in green and carried huge flags and often ran close to the small wall near the boundary ropes (much to the chagrin of the local police).

To many it seemed that India was going to lose the match. In fact, that was the feeling inside the ESPN Star Sports commentary box. The match was increasingly slipping out of India’s grip.

When it mattered most, the Indian players just didn’t get the big hits. After ten overs India had 69 runs on the board for the loss of two wickets. The side could add only 87 runs in their next 10 overs and with only a paltry 47 coming in the last five. By all means, this was not the kind of performance India had expected from its players in the finals. The lines on Dhoni’s forehead – evident from repeated television replays – indicated the turmoil in his mind. The captain was tense, watching his boys walk onto the pitch and walk back into the dressing room at such short intervals. The skipper had some hopes from Robin Uthappa but he too lasted just 11 balls before being caught by Shahid Afridi at cover for eight off a superb Sohail Tanvir delivery.

Gambhir remained the last man standing for India. All this while, the Delhi southpaw batted patiently and picked up a few useful boundaries. His pulls and cuts were brilliant; the two consecutive fours he hit off Hafeez in the 10th over before hitting Afridi for his first six had class written all over them. Gambhir fell in the 18th over when he tried a cheeky sweep off Gul and was caught at short fine leg. Rohit Sharma, who used the long handle to great effect, was India’s last hope, hitting two sixes and a boundary to pick up 14 runs off the last over.

Having scored a mere 157, it certainly seemed as if Dhoni’s team had handed the match to Pakistan on a platter. The rival team simply had to score at a comfortable rate of 7.9 in order to clinch the T20 title in its inaugural edition. With some hard-hitting batsmen in their side and the mercurial Shahid Afridi in good form, it seemed as if Pakistan would easily coast to a win.

Dhoni did not speak before leading his side onto the field. As the ground reporter for ESPN Star Sports, Wilkins saw him up close and felt the Indian captain had a cloudy expression. He was obviously tense. In fact, the Indian skipper – probably to avoid talking cricket with his teammates – had walked out of the dressing room a few seconds before the rest of the side trooped out. Wilkins walked up to Dhoni and quickly had a few words. ‘Just remain focused on the match, all the best.’ Dhoni merely looked at Wilkins, thanked him, and walked onto the ground.

Wilkins knew the Indian skipper was under tremendous pressure. ‘I told him to just remain focused on the match, reminding him of the big Indian win over Pakistan in the 2003 World Cup in South Africa. I told him in that match also, the Indian skipper Saurav Ganguly could not perform with the bat and was out to a controversial leg before decision.’ But ultimately his side had won the day.

Wilkins said it seemed multiple things were going on in the Indian captain’s mind and it was quite obvious that he would not talk. The Indians wanted to start the fight in style. But they messed it up from the very first over. Sreesanth, India’s temperamental and flashy speedster, who had talked with Dhoni the previous day, missed his line and length and Imran Nazir clobbered him for two sixes and two fours. In his next spell – after Dhoni rushed to have a word with the Kerala pacer – Sreesanth gained confidence and bowled a maiden over to Younis Khan and redeemed himself.

But India wanted wickets.

R.P. Singh brought smiles on the Indian faces when he dismissed Mohammad Hafeez for one. The batsman, with minimal footwork, was tempted into a dab outside the off stump. But what he eventually did was bad news for the Pakistan dressing room: an outside edge that was plucked by Uthappa in the slips. In his very next over, RP picked up another wicket, this time the victim being Kamran Akmal whose poor, ugly swipe across the line resulted in hid wickets being shattered.

Then came the big one. Robin Uthappa, whose brilliant throw from the mid-off to the wicketkeeper’s end landed right on the stumps, ending Nazir’s blistering 14-ball, 33-run innings. Nazir had reacted a trifle late to Younis Khan’s sudden call for a run. Dhoni jumped with joy.

Meanwhile, in the stadium, beer flowed like water, Indian fans were ballistic, as was Shah Rukh Khan in the VIP box. He kept on charging the team with theatricality, including standing on the chair when Nazir was run out by Uthappa. In comparison, Lalit Modi was tense but restrained. He got visibly irritated only once when he shooed off a camera crew that wanted a quick reaction. ‘Not now, the game is still on. Let the match get over, do not bother me, for God’s sake,’ hollered Modi.

Khan did not last long. In fact, the calm-faced Joginder Sharma, who had done nothing worthwhile till now, picked up this prized wicket when he had Khan caught at the mid-on by Irfan Pathan. Khan wanted to thump Sharma out of the ground but mistimed his shot and lofted one at Pathan who did not even move an inch before snapping the ball up.

The crowds were simply getting out of control. Twice, the riot police moved into the stands to separate warring Indian and Pakistani supporters. At this point in time, it was anyone’s match. Pakistan had lost three wickets for 53 runs but they still had Shoaib Malik at the crease and Shahid Afridi was yet to come.

And then came the crucial break. It was time for Irfan Pathan to fire a good length delivery outside the off stump. Malik did not get the ball fully on his bat and tried a pull. But all he managed was to sky the delivery to midwicket where Sharma picked up what looked like an easy catch.

This was the turning point of the match. The Indians were back in the game as Pakistan team was four down for 65. Indians, for the first time in the match, saw a glimmer of hope.

But then, Afridi had not yet come out of the dressing room. Afridi, Pakistan’s boom-boom man and one of the finest all-rounders, then walked in amidst thunderous cheers from the supporters at Wanderers. The Pakistani supporters expected him to carry the match through on his shoulders. It was not to happen. The umpire declared Irfan’s first bouncer as a no-ball. Pakistani supporters booed, Indians responded by screaming their lungs out. Pathan struck in his next delivery. He pitched this one outside the off stump and lured Afridi to hit a big one. The ball connected with the bat and Afridi seemed happy that he got right under the ball with his blade but there was no punch. The ball went to the mid-off and Sreesanth ran from the long off to take a brilliant catch.

This time, Indian super star Shah Rukh Khan again came out into the balcony and raised his arms in joy. And then, he broke into an impromptu jig. The crowds went ballistic.

It seemed that India was slowly inching towards victory.

Pathan then picked up the wicket of Yasir Arafat who looked all at sea while attempting a big hit over the leg side. He missed the ball completely and allowed it to crash on. The stumps were shattered and the entire Indian team converged on Pathan. For the first time in the match, Pakistan appeared in deep trouble.

Sreesanth, who had troubles with his line and length, eventually got one right when he scalped Sohail Tanvir. The Pakistani batsman had already hit two towering sixes – much to the relief of his fans – but fell to a brilliant yorker from the Indian pacer. His left stump went flying.

In the 18th over, R.P. Singh again fired a brilliant one, sending Pakistani pacer Umar Gul back to the dressing room for a duck with a brilliant yorker that uprooted his leg stump.

But then the fiery Misbah-ul Haq hit three towering sixes off Harbhajan Singh in the 19th over, rattling the turbanator and once again the Indian team was under immense pressure. That one over suddenly changed the equation again, this time in favour of Pakistan. It seemed the game was all over for Dhoni and his men. Pakistani fans were over the moon.

Soon it was time for the final countdown.

The umpires called for the final over. It was a very, very tense moment for millions of Indians and Pakistani fans all over the world. There was a hushed silence at the Wanderers. In Pakistan, television channels reported how people were out on the streets with their prayer mats and were reading namaz, while in India, hundreds of thousands prayed and watched with bated breath wondering who would Dhoni hand the ball to bowl the final over. Such was the tension that Mumbai’s Marine Drive – a busy 4.3 kilometre stretch near the sea – was devoid of any traffic as everyone had rushed to a television set to see the final over. Even cabbies told commuters to wait. Some who insisted on being driven were told to get off the cabs.

While Indian news channels showed fans out in the streets, all waiting for the final over to be delivered, Pakistani news channels showed how everyone was praying in Pakistan – in homes, streets, highways – for a World Cup win.

Meanwhile the tension in the stadium was palpable. Pakistan needed 13 runs off the last over. As Misbah and Mohammed Asif took their stands, Dhoni surprised everyone by calling on Joginder Sharma to bowl the ultimate over. Sharma, who was clearly overwhelmed by the enormity of the task walked up to the captain and took the ball. He was nervous, and it showed. Sharma started with a wide and followed it up with a dot ball. Tensions ran high on the field as Dhoni walked up to the bowler and told him to steady himself. Meanwhile minor scuffles broke out in the stadium between tense rival fans. Rajput, the Indian coach, could not even stand on his chair. Stone-faced, his eyes – and those of rest of the Indian team members – followed Sharma, India’s last bowler and last hope as he bowled the final over. Someone close to him said Rajput was chanting the Gayatri mantra all through.

Things were not going India’s way. In fact, it seemed worse was still to come. Sharma mistimed his delivery again and the ball sailed into the sightscreen as Misbah exalted after hitting his fourth six of the match. Dhoni was crestfallen. Yet, he put on a brave face, walked up to Sharma to encourage him. Pull yourself together, the game is not yet over, Dhoni told a visibly nervous Sharma.

With just six needed off four balls, Misbah was all set to lead Pakistan to a dream triumph. But it was then that he lost the plot. Super charged, he went for a dangerous, yet delicate back chip over the fine leg and Sreesanth – the man Dhoni once feared had messed his bowling in the finals – ran some 15 yards and took the most memorable catch of his career. Pakistan was dismissed for 152 in 19.3 overs chasing India’s 157 for 5. Misbah, who had hit four over boundaries in his knock of 43 off 38 balls, stood rooted in the crease. It seemed from a distance that he did not know what had hit him. India had turned the fortunes and won the inaugural T20 ICC World Cup. The delighted players basked in the glory of the win as they stood under a cloud of confetti. In India millions of fans exploded with joy in front of their television sets and out on the streets.

Dhoni’s confidence in a novice Sharma had paid off: his teammates had held on and made use of every opportunity to claw themselves back into the game. The Men in Blue had been rewarded for that stubbornness.

The BCCI top brass immediately announced a USD 3 million award for the team and also a special prize, that actually amounted to a crore of rupees, for Yuvraj Singh, primarily for creating the world record of six over boundaries in one over.

As India exploded into a never-seen-before frenzy – even PM Manmohan Singh issued a congratulatory statement within ten minutes of the victory – Dhoni let everyone bask in the glory. His sober demeanor reflected his awareness of the smallest of margins that can exist between victory and defeat. He knew about the pressures of T20 cricket. While he walked to the dressing room, a boy called him from the stands: ‘Dhoni, I need your shirt, can I have it?’ Dhoni looked at the crowd, found the face and called the boy. The security officers led the kid to the ground as many saw Dhoni taking off his World Cup winning shirt for an unknown kid. ‘It seemed he wanted to be alone for sometime; probably, he was remembering his family, his room, his friends, the streets of Ranchi, the crowds of India. At that point in time, he didn’t want to talk cricket,’ said Wilkins. ‘Wait for me, I will be back for the interview,’ yelled Dhoni as he rushed into the dressing room. The boy, meanwhile, had disappeared among the crowd. ‘I was amazed to see his generosity,’ said Wilkins.

A while later Dhoni emerged from the dressing room. A fan handed him a huge tricolour and Dhoni started running along the sidelines to complete a cycle of his life – a skipper with a World Cup. What India had failed to accomplish in South Africa in 2003 and in the West Indies in 2007, was achieved later that year, with the T20 trophy.

Back home, Dhoni’s mother Devki Devi remained transfixed in front of a statue of Lord Krishna. ‘Beta ne desh ko jitaya,’ she whispered to Paan Singh, her voice drowned by the din outside their Ranchi home. An insider said both – holding hands – were weeping silently, tears of joy trickling down their cheeks even as the city exploded into a crescendo of jubilation never seen before. It seemed Ranchi had exhausted all its stock of candles and firecrackers, so endless was the celebration. Everyone – the legendary Sachin Tendulkar included – was sanguine that with Dhoni around, Indian cricket was in safe hands.

An earthy cricketer’s steady hands had led a team of young cricketers, with an average age of 25, to emphatically announce their presence in the world of cricket. 10 Wife for Dhoni

The summer of 2007 was typically Indian – it was hot. The captain of the national cricket team, Mahendra Singh Dhoni was having an exceptional run. He had just wrapped up a day of grueling practice when a non-playing staff of the team directed his attention towards something on the television screen. Dhoni was flabbergasted to see the breaking news being broadcast on the news channels: Dhoni’s Romance. The news channels, English and regional language included, were repeatedly showing split screen shots – a standard practice whenever the news is that of a link-up between two people – of Dhoni and Asin, a top Southern actress who gained countrywide fame after she had been paired opposite Bollywood’s most prized catch, Aamir Khan in the soon-to-be-released film Ghajini.

‘What nonsense is this?’ Dhoni asked Yuvraj Singh, who was standing nearby watching the news bulletin about the alleged link-up. ‘I had merely invited her to watch a match,’ remarked Dhoni. In the past, the Indian skipper had also been linked with Bollywood actress Deepika Padukone after he and Singh had gone for a dinner with the star and Lakshmi Rai, a Chennai-based actress.

Singh, more accustomed to handling both women and romantic scandals, quipped: ‘You don’t have to worry. I have been married off more than a dozen times by these news channels. So much so that there aren’t any girls left for me.’ Dhoni fell silent. Then his agent, Yudhajit Dutta eventually called up a few channels and the news was off the air after sometime. However, no apology was offered by the offending parties.

While the channels were quick to report rumours, they missed out on the fact that a few months later, romance was indeed in the air for Indian cricket’s most eligible bachelor. Dhoni met the love of his life quite accidentally in Kolkata, a city high on romance. The Indian cricket team was in the city to play Pakistan and both teams were staying at Taj Bengal, the picturesque hotel originally planned by Wajid Ali Shah, the last nawab of Oudh.

Sakshi Singh Rawat, an intern at Taj Bengal had walked into the fashionable hotel to meet her friend Yudhajit Dutta, who was coincidentally at that time also Dhoni’s agent. Sakshi, who was a good cook and an aerobics expert, wanted to tell Dutta that it was the last day of her internship and that she was thankful for all the help he had extended during her time at the hotel.

She was surprised to see Dhoni, one of India’s most eligible bachelors, standing next to Dutta near the reception. Dutta does not clarify whether it was a simple case of She came, he saw, she conquered for the two. ‘I remember distinctly, she did not even talk properly to Dhoni after I introduced them. They exchanged pleasantries only because their families were known to each other. And if I remember correctly, they also knew each other,’ says Dutta.

They did. The respective families of Dhoni and Sakshi had known each other for a while. Both families originally belonged to Uttarakhand. Dhoni and Sakshi had studied together in DAV Shyamali in Ranchi and their fathers had worked together in MECON in the same city. While Sakshi’s father had taken voluntary retirement and moved to Dehradun before joining a tea company in Kolkata, Dhoni’s father had stayed put in Ranchi.

What Dutta did not reveal was this: immediately after Sakshi walked out of the hotel, Dhoni asked him for her handset number. It seemed the romance, for him at least, started almost instantly.

An incurable romantic, Sakshi had watched Robert Pattinson’s Twilight at least 10 times and enjoyed seeing Hollywood rom coms and daily soaps. Sitting next to her in her home in Kolkata’s upscale Alipore area, would be her cocker spaniel, Joey.

Dhoni went back to his cricket after that brief meeting at Taj Bengal and Sakshi went to work for an NGO involved with street children in Kolkata. It was then that the flow of SMSs started between the two. The Indian skipper took the lead and it was only after she had received a number of messages that Sakshi – after confirmation from Dutta – realized that it was Dhoni who was messaging her. It took a few months of serious wooing on Dhoni’s part before they officially started dating in March 2008.

‘They mostly had to rely on messages and occasional meetings because privacy is a prized possession for an Indian cricketer and, in this case, it was the Indian cricket captain,’ says ex-Ranji cricketer and former Bihar Cricket Association (BCA) vice-president Daval Sahai.

There were times when Dhoni would travel to Sakshi’s ancestral home in Dehradun, but he would never do so alone for fear of being mobbed. There was also the possibility of the media asking him about his reasons for visiting the city, therefore he took his friend R.P. Singh along. The reporters still caught up with the two and asked them why they were in Dehradun. ‘I came to visit some relatives, thought it would be good if Dhoni comes along. So we both travelled,’ replied Singh. The discussion instantly shifted to cricket and the future of the game. Both Dhoni and Singh heaved a sigh of relief.

Dhoni was aware that any public interaction with Sakshi would only help a handful of photographers earn some cash and trigger speculative stories across news channels and various dailies. He started planning his dates in crowds, so that his love story remained well within the confines of his family and close friends like John Abraham. The Bollywood hunk, who was then dating Bipasha Basu, would often advise Dhoni on how to handle his relationship, especially in a sensitive country like India. Abraham and Dhoni shared their passion for high-end motorbikes and would often discuss almost everything under the sun.

‘The chances of such stories going to the media are less if you are in a crowd. So even if you are with Sakshi, the best is to stay in a crowd and maintain a distance from each other,’ Abraham reportedly told the Indian skipper. Dhoni agreed. He had seen how the media had haunted a flashy Yuvraj Singh for openly mingling with women. While such media attention did not bother Singh – he was Team India’s Mr. Romantic – Dhoni knew such news would trouble him, impact his image and eventually his performance. After all, he was the Indian team’s captain and he could not afford to do anything that would mess up either his game or his personal life. Privacy, for Dhoni, was of utmost importance. In fact, Dhoni had conveyed his concerns to Sakshi, making her realize the importance of keeping their relationship out of the media glare. She met Dhoni when she could – at parties, with other friends and at all times remembering not to spend ‘close moments’ with the Indian skipper. For example, Sakshi went to Mumbai to attend Dhoni’s birthday bash in 2008. There were quite a few celebrity friends from the cricketing world as well as Bollywood at the party. Sakshi made it a point not to get too close to Dhoni to avoid being captured together by the cameramen. In fact, she practically stayed away from him. Eventually, Dhoni took an hour off from the party and dropped her back to a relative’s place far away. They both left the party separately and unnoticed. No one suspected anything. The lensmen were only focused on Dhoni, and Sakshi was happy to be in the clear.

But there were moments when the two met at the oddest of places, and enjoyed each other’s company. Consider the story told by a Dhoni family insider who would not like to reveal his name for obvious reasons: According to him, Dhoni cut his long hair short since Sakshi liked it that way and that she began to attend all his hairstyling sessions. Sakshi was seen with Dhoni on her 21st birthday on 19 November 2009, when they also went for a rickshaw ride in Aurangabad – where Sakshi was a student at the Institute of Hotel Management (IHM) – and rushed into a consumer electronic store to pick up an iPhone. The two also met at the premier of Race, starring Bipasha Basu. Basu took special care of Sakshi and kept her away from pesky reporters who repeatedly asked the actress about her. However, two Mumbai-based newspapers did link Sakshi’s presence at the function to Dhoni’s sudden visit to the city and speculated whether something was in the air. But nothing came of it.

The meetings continued for almost one and a half years across the country, much to the happiness of the two and their respective families. Now, it was time to tie the knot. But, for reasons best known to him, the Indian skipper backtracked not from marriage itself but from the 2010 wedding. Weighing heavily on his mind was the 2011 ICC World Cup that India would be hosting along with Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. Dhoni knew that during that time expectations from hundreds and thousands of cricket-crazy fans would be at an all-time high.

But both sets of parents were keen that Dhoni should get married before the World Cup and intervened to influence the star cricketer’s decision. True to the Indian tradition, both parents rushed to their family astrologers to find out whether it was a perfect match and whether it would be fine for the two to get married before the 2011 ICC World Cup. The astrologers – realizing their predictions would make headline news – went on a hyperbole. The astrologers said a lot of things, most of which the families ignored.

One said the India skipper will have a long-lasting, trouble-free marriage but since the Sun and Mars – indicators of power and success – were adversely placed at the time of the muhurat, Dhoni’s career graph post marriage could see more troughs than peaks. Interestingly enough just a year after his wedding, Dhoni led his team to the ICC World Cup win.

It was declared that Dhoni’s birth chart has a ‘clean’ 7th house and there are no planets in the 8th house or the 12th house, indicating that his married life should be peaceful, blissful and scandal free. His wife Sakshi was seen as being emotionally strong and someone who would be a big moral support to Dhoni. Instantly, the dailies picked it up, much to the discomfort of the Indian captain and his fiancée.

According to another astrologer, since Dhoni would be marrying during his Shani antardasa, a period which was to conclude only in May 2012, he would achieve nothing significant as the skipper of the Indian team after his wedding. This one also made headline news for the channels, some of them even going to the extent of calling the astrologer to the studios for discussion on their shows that – expectedly – were a big hit.

A third astrologer went a step further and predicted that not only would Dhoni not win the 2011 ICC World Cup but he would also step down from captaincy in 2012. He also predicted that the couple would have their first child between 2013 and 2014 and added that the child would be born with either Jupiter or Saturn or both in exaltation points, a rare phenomenon, and would go on to rock the world.

Dhoni’s parents disregarded all the predictions and continued to pressurize their son to get married. Eventually, his parents’ failing health became a catalyst and Dhoni decided to tie the knot in the beginning of 2010. But there was a condition. The wedding must be conducted super fast and virtually without any fanfare. Sakshi’s parents agreed to the conditions and she consequently informed her close friends and family about the big decision, though no one was really sure about the actual date, which was finalized only 25 days before the wedding was to be solemnized.

Under a shroud of secrecy friends and relatives of both families were told to reach Dehradun. For what, they asked? For a wedding, they were told. A motley crowd booked its tickets to the faraway town that is the gateway to the popular hill station Mussoorie. Eventually, Dhoni got engaged to Sakshi in Dehradun on the night of 3 July 2010 in a ceremony attended only by close friends and family. It was supposed to be a closely-guarded secret, but information about it was leaked out at the last minute by one of Sakshi’s friends. The bulk of Team India cricketers were informed on Saturday – post engagement – that a quick wedding was taking place the following day, Sunday, 4 July 2010.

India erupted with joy at the news of the engagement. Ranchi also joined in the festivities, but with a heavy heart. Why didn’t the town’s prodigal son even inform his friends about his wedding? ‘Many were genuinely upset, among them were his childhood friends and those who had been with him for long,’ says Goutam Das, the ESPN Star Sports reporter who received more than 1000 messages on his handset from people asking him for details of the wedding.

Why him? Well, they mistook him for the other Goutam in Dhoni’s life, his brother-in-law Gautam Gupta. ‘I spent some decent amount of money responding to those messages, eventually I got tired and started deleting them,’ laughs Das.

Meanwhile in Dehradun, Dhonis were playing typical hide and seek with the media on the night of the engagement. Since the news had been leaked there was an obvious frenzy that started building across India as news channels went berserk. They had no visuals of the engagement, so they showed whatever old visuals they could. Some even used sketches. Almost all mainline news channels rushed their outdoor broadcasting vans to Dehradun and channel heads started messaging Dhoni for permission to shoot the wedding. On the afternoon of 3 July, the day of the engagement, traffic cops in Dehradun were at sea when it came to handling the huge convoy of outdoor broadcast vans of news channels. There were an estimated 65 of them, all keen to beam some visuals of the wedding. The Indian skipper did not respond to the messages that he continued receiving on his mobile, mostly from the editors keen to get permission to cover the wedding. Dhoni was not interested. He told his friends, Abraham included, that total secrecy should be maintained and that a fake wedding venue should be announced to hoodwink the reporters. Everyone laughed but agreed to Dhoni’s game plan.

The wedding ceremony was actually planned at a resort 25 kilometres away from Dehradun. Staff from the hotel was informed in advance about a VIP wedding and rooms had been booked. Many thought Rahul Gandhi, the young Congress leader, would visit the city to get married. On 3 July, Dhoni and his family travelled in specially imported vehicles that drove fast and had tinted glasses. But an hour after they had arrived at the hotel at around 6 a.m., a bellboy leaked the information – he had seen Dhoni and a few other cricketers – and the convoy of OB vans started arriving outside the resort. The engagement, supposed to take place in the hotel that night, was instantly cancelled and the venue shifted to Bhagirath Resort, a little further away. Attired in a Sherwani, Dhoni made a quiet exit from the rear entrance of the hotel in the evening. Sakshi’s cousin, Abhilasha Bisht, an IPS officer and a guest at the wedding, ensured that this time the media did not trail the Indian skipper and his fiancée. The resort authorities were given strict instructions not to inform the press and told to avoid floral decorations at the venue. With orders coming from a cop, the hotel officials had no option but to agree.

The next day, 4 July, amidst tight security Dhoni married Sakshi at another resort a little far from Dehradun. Dhoni was wearing a designer green sherwani while Sakshi wore a red lehenga.The wedding took place at Vishranthi, a pastoral resort situated 25 kilometres off Dehradun and owned by former Rajasthan chief minister Vashundhara Raje Scindia.

Guests drove through a narrow four-feet wide road – manned by more than 500 cops – to reach the 500-bigha property. Barriers were erected at several points to keep out snooping journalists. Adding to the heavy veil of secrecy, the villagers of Kandoli – where the resort was located – also remained tight- lipped about the wedding, as did the staff of the resort.

The wedding was solemnized by Dharmanand Mithani, who had also conducted the pooja at the engagement ceremony earlier. A local florist, Charan Das, supplied the flowers for the function while the wedding outfits and the DJ were flown in from Mumbai. Emerging after the wedding at about 1.30 am, the priest told bleary-eyed reporters that the marriage ceremony had gone on for three hours and it was held according to the Kumaoni customs. The resort manager, tired of repeated questioning by the media, eventually revealed that a 15-course, all vegetarian meal had been served for the guests.

Not too many members of the Indian cricket team could attend the wedding. A select few – R.P. Singh, Piyush Chawla, Praveen Kumar, and Suresh Raina were there. In fact, one of Dhoni’s closest friends in the side, Yuvraj Singh, could not attend the wedding and wished Dhoni via a tweet.

Bollywood was conspicuous in its absence; the only two people present from the fraternity were John Abraham and Farah Khan along with Manoj Tiwari, the Bhojpuri actor. In 2008, Dhoni had shot for a music video with Rani Tiwari, Manoj’s wife. Another of Dhoni’s close friends, Amitava Chowdhury, an IPS officer and a top official of Jharkhand Cricket Association ( JCA) came to Dehradun from Chennai along with BCCI president N. Srinivasan after learning that the BCCI president would also be attending Dhoni’s wedding.

Sudesh Mahato, Jharkhand’s deputy chief minister and one of the handful of guests who attended Dhoni’s wedding, says the meeting was fated. ‘It was God’s wish that a simple girl must get married to Dhoni who – unlike other cricketers – does not lead a flashy lifestyle.’

While everyone was pleased when Dhoni finally tied the knot, there was someone who also breathed a sigh of relief – southern actress Lakshmi Rai, who had frequently been linked with the cricketer. ‘Whenever I was asked about my relationship with Dhoni, I said we were just friends and he would announce his engagement or wedding with someone else soon enough and not me. Hope the media now believes my story,’ she told reporters whom she specifically called to her home in Chennai, post the wedding. ‘In fact, I knew he was seeing Sakshi, but being a close friend, I had to keep it under wraps, because he did not wish to talk about it at the time.’

Lakshmi said that such stories are not unusual because cricketer-actress link-ups make for a spicy story. ‘Not just me, even Asin was linked with Dhoni. But now I hope the media will realize the nature of my relationship with Dhoni. I’m very happy for him and wish the couple all the very best,’ she told the media, reminding them how Sakshi’s parents were very upset when newspapers had started linking Dhoni with actress Deepika Padukone.

Meanwhile, the news channels were stressing as there was no one who was ready to talk to them about the wedding in Dehradun and Dhoni was refusing to meet with the press. Pushed into a corner, with no other leads, the media then started picking on friends of Sakshi who lived in Dehradun and urging them to come to their makeshift studios.

One of Sakshi’s batch mates, Maneka Bajaj, walked into a top English news channel’s studio and described how she and Sakshi had studied together at Dehradun’s Welham’s School and passed out in 2006. ‘She was fun, friendly and always full of life. We were all in a boarding school. A friendly girl, she was one of the prettiest girls in school.’

Viewers watched intently as she revealed that she had known of Sakshi’s relationship with Dhoni. ‘I asked her once about Dhoni and she told me that Mahi was out on tour then. I had also told my family that Sakshi was dating Mahi. But no one really believed me, including my cook.’

In another studio, another friend of Sakshi, Kanika Puri, recalled how they had taken Hindi and Maths tuitions together and walked around Dehradun and generally had a good time together.

‘Since both of us were from Kolkata, we used to return home on our holidays together. We would both take a bus to Delhi and then take a train to Kolkata. On our journey back home we would hardly sleep. Most of our time was spent chatting with each other. Once, we had also gone for a movie together in the city. I had last bumped into her in the online chat room. Though I did know that she was dating Dhoni, I had never confronted her on that. Sakshi is a very humble girl. I don’t think she will change after her marriage,’ Puri told the channel.

In Ranchi, Dhoni’s fans burst crackers and distributed sweets to celebrate the wedding. There was general approval that Dhoni had decided to marry a ‘girl-next-door’. ‘We are relieved today; he is marrying a girl who is just like a girl next door ... three cheers for Dhoni and his life partner,’ Anuj Kumar, a Dhoni fan told a news channel.

Former players expressed hope that the wedding would act as a good omen for Dhoni’s cricketing career. ‘I am sure his marriage will spark him to do better at the 2011 World Cup as every step of Dhoni speaks of conviction and determination. I hope India wins the World Cup for the second time under Dhoni,’ remarked ex-Ranji cricketer and former Bihar Cricket Association vice-president Daval Sahai.

He had not attended the wedding but that did not bother Sahai, a man whom Dhoni makes it a point to at the very least speak over phone to whenever the latter is in Ranchi. Sahai said Dhoni’s performance would double as marriage brings ‘renewed vigour’. ‘Being single is always dangerous, but Dhoni is relieved now from page-3-type gossip,’ said Om Ranjan Malviya, who was once a practice partner of the Indian skipper.

An elated Adil Hussain, under whom Dhoni played for Central Coalfields Limited, called reporters to his home, offered them sweets on behalf of Dhoni, and said he was happy for the Indian captain. Hussain told reporters that Dhoni always took crucial decisions not only judiciously but also in a timely manner. ‘He knows what system works for him. He keeps well behind the wickets, and he will keep well as a husband too. Just wait and see how his marriage brings luck to his game,’ said Hussain, a former Bihar Ranji captain.

‘Normally marriage heralds a new dawn in everyone’s life. Therefore, the graph of the number one one- day batsman’s performance will only go up,’ felt Ashok Ghosh, an ex-Ranji player, who had also joined the celebrations. Former left-arm spinner KVP Rao supported Dhoni’s surprise engagement and then marriage, saying: ‘The captain knows his field placements and knows how to stump everyone by surprise. At least now there will be somebody to look after him.’

Now it was time for the Dhonis to return to Ranchi. Knowing the mayhem their arrival would cause in that small town, the family requested for adequate police protection. Dhoni, who as the Indian cricket captain, already had special security, had increased protection this time around.

What was on Ranchi’s mind? Everyone wanted to know when will the Dhonis host the wedding reception?

Dhoni returned with his wife Sakshi to his hometown on 7 July, his birthday. An estimated 3000 people crowded the Birsa Munda airport. Many carried garlands, others carried placards and banners that read: ‘Happy Wedding, when is the reception, Mahi?’ Another read: ‘Wishing you and aspiring to have a glimpse of the superhero of Ranchi’.

And the rest hoped Dhoni, like a typical hero, would come out of the flight and wave like Shah Rukh Khan. They had not liked the star’s hush-hush engagement and marriage.

As it was the star’s birthday, the fans were already celebrating all over Ranchi. Many distributed sweets, cut giant cakes, set off firecrackers and garlanded huge posters of the cricketer. They were in a mood to party, they wanted to see Dhoni and of course, his wife, in person.

But Dhoni was distinctly uncomfortable even with the grand reception he had received at the airport. On his arrival, Dhoni had requested airport authorities if he and his family members could exit through the cargo gate. That gate, Dhoni was told, was deserted, as the crowds had gathered in front of the main entrance.

The airport officials agreed and within half an hour, the Indian cricket captain and his family drove out of the airport from the cargo gate in a Toyota Qualis, followed by police jeeps.

Not to be outdone, the fans immediately followed the convoy. And eventually, there was a virtual pandemonium at the cricketer’s newly-constructed bungalow at Ranchi’s upmarket Harmu Road. There were hundreds of people all around his house, many went to the rooftops of surrounding buildings to get a glimpse of the star cricketer and his new wife.

Dhoni, realizing that something needed to be done, pushed his elder brother Narendra out to handle the crowd and tell them to disperse because the family was very tired. The ploy did not work and the fans said they must meet Dhoni before leaving. Narendra tried hard but nothing worked, many now had started raising slogans. Many wanted to know the date of the wedding reception. Narendra was at a complete loss.

Sitting inside his living room Dhoni was amused to see his elder brother struggling with the crowd. He asked Sakshi to accompany him out on to the balcony.

There was pandemonium. Cameras rolled, clicked, many used their handsets to film the couple and many wept in joy. Sporting a red T-shirt and blue jeans with his wife clad in white salwar suit, Dhoni waved to the crowd for almost a minute, and then retreated inside.

Standing in the crowd was Paramjit Singh, Dhoni’s friend who had once got him his first sets of bats. He had now helped Narendra disperse the crowds. Once they had left, Singh looked at the sun and prayed with folded hands. Earlier, the prayer would always be for his friend. This time Singh had added one more name: that of Sakshi, the woman who would now take care of his friend for life.

And then, Singh quietly started his long walk back to his shop, shunning limelight, as always. 11 Jharkhand Push: Dhoni is our Boy

Very few have followed the cricketing history of Bihar, and fewer still have chronicled it. However, if you were to come across the local newspaper columns written by renowned bureaucrat Dr. P.C. Mustafi in the late 1970s – who earned accolades for his brilliant work in the state’s rural areas – you will quickly come to the conclusion that the growth of cricket in Bihar is directly linked to the fact that the game flourished fairly well in the industrial town of Jamshedpur.

As Mustafi writes in his columns – some compilations of his columns are still available in Patna’s old book-stores – the early days of Bihar cricket were fondly remembered by many largely because of Minoa Patel’s fearsome deliveries and the mighty boundaries that came easily off KAD Naoroji’s bat. Patel was a brilliant bowler who always maintained an accurate line and length with devastating results. According to Mustafi, he was arguably amongst the best in the state and one of the finest from the East Zone. Similarly, Naoroji was known for his copybook, classic batting style many later associated with Sunil Gavaskar. ‘His wrist movements would instantly send the ball racing to the boundary ropes. And his big, high hits were a delight to watch,’ wrote Mustafi.

In those days, the annual cricket fixtures of Calcutta Parsis and Jamshedpur Parsis was routinely held in Jamshedpur and enjoyed by the sizeable cricket loving community of the town, most of whom were employees of the Tata companies based there.

The Bihar Cricket Association (BCA) dates back to 1936. It was formed in Jamshedpur with A.M. Hayman as president, Naoroji and Professor Moin-ul-Huq as vice-presidents and N. Quereshi as secretary. Initially, the BCA struggled to gain recognition from the rest of the cricket playing states in India but slowly yet steadily it managed to gain its rightful place on the country’s cricketing map. In fact, within a year of its formation, the BCA had gained entry into the coveted Ranji Trophy tournament.

The BCA played its first Ranji match in 1937 against the Cricket Association of Bengal and Assam (CABAA) at what was then known as Calcutta. No one believed that the side stood a fighting chance, and were in fact surprised to see BCA manage a first innings lead before losing the match to a far better side. Calcutta’s widely-circulated newspaper, the Statesman described the BCA team as a trail blazer and wrote: ‘If nurtured, the team – high on talent – could rise to dizzying heights.’ Members of the CABAA did not like such high praise for their opponents and quietly encouraged some of their fans to write nasty letters to the newspaper’s editor.

Being the epicenter of Bihar’s cricket scene, Jamshedpur played host to the state’s first Ranji match at the Keenan Stadium in 1939-40 against CABAA. The stadium, thanks to the Tatas, had all the facilities to host top cricket matches but had somehow managed to remain on the backburner of the country’s cricketing calendar. As a result, not too many all-India competitive cricket matches had been hosted at Keenan. While this impacted Bihar’s cricket growth, no administrator could take on the mighty cricket board.

Bihar had to wait till the 23rd of January 1948, to record its first victory when it beat Delhi and District Cricket Association (DDCA) team at Keenan. DDCA needed to score 32 runs with eight wickets and a full day left, but – thanks to some superlative performance by the Bihar bowlers – all the wickets tumbled for 17 runs in less than one hour! Post-match celebrations continued late into the night. In 1959-60, Bihar defeated Bengal to become – for the first time – East Zone champions and entered the Ranji semi-final but eventually lost to Mysore in the finals.

And during all these years Keenan remained the epicenter of cricket in Bihar, thanks to some serious backing by the Tatas. The Mumbai-based conglomerate had built Keenan and was largely responsible for bankrolling the game in the state. Interestingly, there was a faction within the Tata Group that was keen that the group fund football and repeatedly raised their demand with the management. But cricket, thanks to its fast growing popularity in Bihar, prevailed and garnered the largest share of sports investment from the Tatas.

In Jamshedpur Keenan was synonymous with the Tata name. In fact, those visiting the stadium in the ’70s and ’80s, often wondered why the stadium was named Keenan and not after the Tatas, not realizing that the stadium was named after John Lawrence Keenan, a former general manager of the Tatas. However, there were those who felt that the stadium should have been called the Tata Grounds because nothing moved inside or outside the stadium without the permission of the Tatas.

Binod Kumar Singh, a seasoned bureaucrat who is now the resident commissioner in Delhi of Jharkhand state, which was carved out of Bihar in 2000, with Ranchi as the state capital and Jamshedpur as its second city – vividly remembers how members of Tata Steel would be feted as they walked into the stadium to witness a cricket match. The works, recalls Singh, were reserved only for the Tatas at Keenan. The first ten rows were all for members of India’s largest private sector conglomerate. The senior Tata officials occupied the first five rows with their special white fabric covered sofas and standing fans, with waiters serving cold drinks, tea, coffee during the game. And at lunch they were treated to a scrumptious spread. They were led by the burly J.J. Irani, the managing director of Tata Iron and Steel Company (TISCO), who would occupy his place of pride with his colleagues in those specially designated seats in the stadium. In fact, three-fourths of the stadium would be occupied by Tata employees and their kin. The remaining quarter of the seats, remembers Singh, was for those travelling from neighbouring states to watch the match.

Singh did not like this favouritism shown to the Tata staff. And there were others like Singh who did not appreciate it either. Sitting in the back rows of the stadium, Singh and a close friend, Amitabh Chowdhury, an IPS officer who later went on to shape the JSCA, were saddened by this apparent show of discrepancy. However, no one had the guts to take on the might of the Tatas.

Cricket in Bihar was played in Jamshedpur alone, with Tata officials dominating the show. There seemed to be no way out, ostensibly because the Tatas bankrolled bulk of the cricket expenses in Bihar and there weren’t many who were keen to make the Tatas tighten their purse strings. Cash power is big power, Singh and Chowdhury reminded themselves even as they routinely sat in faraway seats that guaranteed only a limited view of the game and the players.

Change was a long while coming. The vice-like grip of the Tatas over Keenan Stadium and BCA continued for substantial time period. ‘We had no option but to remain silent,’ remembers Singh.

The first ray of hope came after the new state of Jharkhand was formed in 2000 with Jamshedpur in its fold.

The Cricket Association of Jharkhand (CAJ) was formed almost instantly. But two parallel associations, the BCA and the CAJ, functioned simultaneously for some time before the former, with its headquarters at Jamshedpur, was dissolved by the BCCI.

Then came the Jharkhand State Cricket Association ( JSCA) in 2004. Interestingly, it was granted affiliation the same year and the state was allowed to participate in the Ranji Trophy, overlooking the rule that a new state association would have to conduct junior tournaments for three years before getting the affiliation.

Singh and Chowdhury (both senior members of the state bureaucracy) had ensured the birth of the JSCA with active support from the then czar of Indian cricket, Jagmohan Dalmiya. Kolkata-based Dalmiya realized that it was an important move by the cricket administrators of Jharkhand to register a state cricket body. For Dalmiya, the decision by Singh and Chowdhury to set up JSCA meant an additional vote in his kitty and thus he was more than happy to grant voting rights to JSCA.

The move, as expected, did not go down too well with cricket administrators in the neighbouring Bihar. But there was little they could do to protest as the body was enmeshed in factional infighting at the time, with two rival groups trying to stake claim as the original BCA.

Meanwhile, Singh and Chowdhury were gaining ground in the country’s cricket fraternity. They had an association that was young, legitimate and had voting powers, which means a lot in India. Yet, things weighed heavily in favour of the Tatas who continued to rule Jamshedpur and within it, the Keenan stadium. Singh, Chowdhury and other officials of the newly formed JSCA continued to bide their time for a few years – they were still made to sit in the back rows and were denied any special service. ‘How long will this step-motherly treatment continue? We are a legitimate body and yet, we get treated as second-class citizens?’ Singh asked Chowdhury. The latter was quiet. While Chowdhury agreed with what Singh had to say, the JSCA top brass preferred to shy away from any confrontation.

When back in Ranchi, the two summoned a meeting to discuss a way out. ‘We are newcomers to the game, and we have not done anything out of the hat, so it’s better to remain quiet,’ said a few members. No, argued the rest. Why should we act like rank outsiders? We have to make our presence felt and take Jharkhand cricket to greater heights. The mood in the room had suddenly turned belligerent. Singh and Chowdhury pacified the members and told them that JSCA could attain greater heights only if the state produced quality cricketers. ‘It does not matter who runs a stadium and who is sitting in the front row and whether you all are getting lunch coupons late. We will have to strive hard to create quality cricketers, and then, launch them on the national scene. Only then people will take us seriously,’ thundered Chowdhury. Everyone present in the room nodded in unison.

It was clear to those who attended the meeting that Singh and Chowdhury wanted to stake claim to greater recognition only after they had shaped some cricketers in their small association. And for this, it was important not just to build a stadium in Ranchi, home to JSCA, but to also immediately push some of the state’s top players towards national reckoning. ‘Look at us. We had nothing to offer, the only person worth his salt to have played from Bihar was Subrata Banerjee. And that was in the ’90s,’ said Singh who knew very well that despite support from Dalmiya, it would not be possible for the JSCA to sell the Banerjee story to gain stature within the BCCI. After all, Banerjee had represented Bihar, not Jharkhand and that was in 1991-92, almost a decade before Jharkhand was carved out of Bihar. One of the earliest products of the MRF Pace foundation, Banerjee had created a sensation when he picked up 7 wickets for 18 runs in a 1989-90 Ranji tie against Tripura. From there he went on the 1991-92 tour of Australia, where he played only in the first innings of the third Test at Sydney and scalped three for 47. While he was included in the Benson & Hedges World Series that followed the Test series, Banerjee failed to impress. The selectors still picked him for the next season’s South Africa tour, but once there, he did not play a single Test and met with modest success in the ODIs and first-class games. He was dropped immediately thereafter.

Thus, were any top BCCI officials to ask them whether Jharkhand had any players that it was keen to showcase, the JSCA would not have an answer.

Singh and Chowdhury had been working towards chalking up an interesting plan, the first part of which revolved around Operation Total Control. No one knows whether the two had the tacit support of Dalmiya but the duo worked in tandem on their master plan. In fact, those days, it was the buzz in the offices of JSCA that Ranchi’s Ram and Lakshman (nick names for Singh and Chowdhury) were plotting a ‘big move’. So what were they planning? The basic idea was to take total control of JSCA, which was still dominated by forces close to the Tatas. In short, it was time to take the Tatas head on. Meticulous behind-the-scene planning continued for days, weeks and months before it was time for the 2006 annual elections. Meanwhile, the Tatas were aware of what the new members of JSCA were contemplating and they got busy drumming up all their resources for what was increasingly beginning to look like a final showdown.

The JSCA elections took place in the steel city of Bokaro under the watchful eyes of DIG Anil Palta, a top cop from the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI). Chowdhury, then the IG of Police of Jharkhand, was one of the main contenders and was faced with none other than the state Home Minister Sudesh Mahato himself. Mahato was of course backed lock, stock and barrel by the Tatas (read S. Muthuraman, who had succeeded Irani as the big boss of Tata Steel). Extensive lobbying continued right until the night before voting was to take place.

The election fever rose on the evening of 13 May 2006, with a fleet of luxury sedans, particularly from Jamshedpur (presumably sent by the Tatas), rolling into Ranchi. But Singh and Chowdhury were not worried. The two along with their faction members of the JSCA merely chilled in the hotel rooms they had booked for their strategy meetings.

Everyone in Ranchi would have to wait till the next evening to see who would control the JSCA: the home minister, the superboss or the IG, or his subordinate?

A serpentine queue formed from 11 a.m. onwards outside the community hall in Sector II in Ranchi, the venue of the polling. Many braved blistering heat and dust patiently in order to cast their vote.

Mahato was tense. He had summoned his key associates for an early morning breakfast on 14 May at the circuit house, the standard hub for all politicians in Ranchi.

Donning his signature cap, the minister managed to slip into the election venue without his bodyguards.

Both Amitabh Chowdhury and Mahto made a last-ditch attempt to woo the members, standing about 200 metres away from the main election centre.

Although Tata Steel managing director B. Muthuraman did not turn up, deputy managing director A.N. Singh arrived by a company flight accompanied by Telcon MD Ranaveer Sinha, senior Jusco officer U.K. Srivastav and at least two businessmen from Jamshedpur.

Known as supporters of Mahto, CRPF DIG Alok Raj, liquor baron Badal Jaiswal and former Test player Saba Karim ‘who even questioned the comfort JSCA has offered to it members’, reached the venue before 11 a.m. to ensure that their votes were not cast.

Ranchi SSP R.K. Mallick arrived at the last minute.

But this time the high voltage support and pressure from the Tatas failed to work its magic and Mahato lost the election by 250 votes to a triumphant Chowdhury.

From this moment forward, the cricketing scene in Jharkhand underwent a complete facelift, with the BCCI only too happy to agree to the demands of the newly elected body. Meanwhile, in neighbouring Bihar, factional feuds and the never-ending litigations coupled with rank apathy of the BCCI began to take its toll on the state’s cricket. The rise of the JSCA only served to rub salt into the already deeply wounded BCA.

According to the cricket cognoscenti, Bihar – despite having a rich cricketing tradition was left in shambles mainly because of internal politics and the constant infighting. The situation worsened to such a degree that the BCA had troubles sending teams to first-class tournaments, including the Ranji trophy, for close to a decade.

In fact, it was a very sorry state of affairs as politics totally ruled the game in Bihar. As BCA was initially headquartered at Jamshedpur, the administration of the association shifted to Jharkhand. However, because of former Bihar CM Lalu Prasad Yadav’s proximity to Union minister Sharad Pawar, he was allowed to form BCA in Patna in 2001 with him assuming its presidency. But the BCCI now withdrew its affiliation to the BCA and officially recognized the Amitabh Chowdhury-led JSCA.

The BCA argued that Bihar was the parent state, and hence it should be allowed to continue with the BCCI affiliation. The matter, in fact, went to the Supreme Court in September 2006, but there too the ruling was in favour of Jharkhand. However, the issue of affiliation got a fresh twist when BJP MP and former Test cricketer Kirti Azad jumped into the fray with his own Association of Bihar Cricket (ABC) in 2007. In the interregnum, the return of Lalu Prasad as union minister and the election of his cabinet colleague Sharad Pawar as the BCCI president raised some hope for cricket in the state as the BCCI offered associate membership to the BCA in 2008. However, the hope was short-lived after the BJP- JD(U) coalition government in the state cancelled the BCA’s registration for breach of norms, a decision in which ABC chairman Azad had reportedly played an instrumental role.

Cricket in Bihar was in total chaos. Admitting that the prolonged legal battle and factional feuds had badly hit the sporting zeal of budding cricketers in the state, Azad blamed the BCCI for the step- motherly treatment being meted out to the state. ‘If the BCA has been de-recognized, why have other bodies not been given affiliation by the BCCI for promotion of cricket in Bihar?’ he asked. The BCCI did not respond. While the controversy over actual affiliation granted by the BCCI to cricket bodies in Bihar continued unabated, another group of officials from the BCA revolted in 2012 and parted ways to form Cricket Association of Bihar (CAB) with Shekhar Sinha as chief. Cricket in the state became a casualty of the politics of Bihar.

Meanwhile, next door in Jharkhand, Chowdhury and Singh knew that this was their time to push the game to an all time high in the state. It was now or never. They knew that if they did not perform and the state remained on the margins of national cricket, their rivals would be more than happy to unseat them in the next elections.

They were lucky: one player, a young and gifted wicketkeeper was already in the headlines with his brilliant batting and leadership qualities on display. Many in the state loved his style of quick-fire cricket and ability to take smart, on-the-spot decisions. Newspapers across the country had already started calling him a rising star, a bright spark. The dailies described him as a man who had in him the ability to lead the state. The man was none other than Mahendra Singh Dhoni, a bright spark, who was loved equally by women and men as much for his flowing hair as for his flowing runs.

‘He is our man, we need to back him and ensure that he plays great cricket in the center stage,’ Chowdhury told the JSCA members. Singh and other members of the JSCA were in complete agreement. ‘If he plays his game, we will have India’s brightest star among us. And then, everyone will value us and the state’s contribution to Indian cricket,’ added Singh. Every JSCA member in the room listened with rapt attention.

But it was not going to be an easy job.

India already had two wicketkeepers in Parthiv Patel and Dinesh Karthik. Not only were they fairly established in the side, they had some solid backing from their respective zones, West and South, both of which were power centers in the BCCI hierarchy. To make some headway with their game plan, Singh and Chowdhury met with Yashpal Sharma, a selector from North Zone and Sambaran Banerjee, an East Zone selector to discuss the possibility of them backing Dhoni and pushing an agenda of having different wicketkeepers for Test and ODI formats. After countless late night meetings over coffee and tea, Singh was able to convince both Banerjee and Sharma that Dhoni should be given his first Test chance. It was in 2005 and the rival team was neighbouring Sri Lanka.

Dhoni was not a greenhorn. He had debuted for the Bihar team during the 1998-99 domestic season and was later selected to represent India-A for a tour to Kenya in 2004. Along with Delhi southpaw Gautam Gambhir, Dhoni had already cracked multiple centuries against the Pakistan-A team in a tri- nation series in Zimbabwe in March 2004. For Singh and Chowdhury, Dhoni was the obvious man to be pushed into the national selection. And they did it in style and without failure.

They mailed Dhoni’s track record to the BCCI bosses and continued to argue that the Jharkhand right-hander should get his due place in the team. Eventually, Dhoni got into the side touring Bangladesh in 2004 but much to the disappointment of Singh and Chowdhury, he failed to make a major impact then. His failure left both Singh and Chowdhury extremely worried. The duo again started presenting their case (read lobbying) to the selectors. The two also met Dalmiya and pleaded that Dhoni – being the only cricketer from the newly-created JSCA – be granted another chance. ‘Many do get multiple chances, don’t they? So why not give this cricketer from our state a chance to represent India again? We are a new organization trying hard to groom talented cricketers,’ the duo implored BCCI’s powerful selectors before they sat to select the side for the ODI series against the visiting Pakistan team in December 2004.

The lobbying worked and Dhoni was in contention for the series against Pakistan. ‘Better tell your boy to crack some good scores; otherwise he will not get another entry. This is his final chance,’ Dalmiya told both Singh and Chowdhury a few days before the team was selected for the Pakistan series.

Back in Ranchi, the two called Dhoni over and sat him down for a frank chat. ‘It was a meeting that lasted for three hours. We told him the chance of his getting into the side was high and that he should not fritter it away, especially at a time when Karthik was batting well. We explained to him how difficult it was for us to push his case, and the fact that he performed badly in Bangladesh did not help our cause,’ says Singh. Dhoni listened carefully and then quietly walked out. It seemed to both Singh and Chowdhury that Dhoni was now determined to crack gold; he was determined to prove his class to cement his place permanently in the side.

But to do that, he had to first get into the side; he needed to win over the selectors. The selectors were – luckily for Dhoni – picking players not for the entire series but for individual matches. While, in the first Test Dhoni scored 8 runs and remained not out after hitting the winning run, Karthik cracked 93 not out in the last Test and once again cemented his side in the Test team, much to the discomfort of his rival from Ranchi. It became apparent that Dhoni would not be recommended for the ODI series.

A panicky Singh once again went into confabulations with the two selectors. This time Sharma expressed his inability to help him. Singh then turned to Banerjee, who said that he would try. Singh felt that if an East Zone selector was pushing for Dhoni’s cause, especially at a time when the captain (Saurav Ganguly) was from the East Zone, he possibly stood a chance. Push, push, push was the only word Singh could utter before leaving the room.

The representation, somehow, worked. The selectors dropped Anil Kumble and V.V.S. Laxman from the squad for the first two ODIs against Pakistan. The selectors also dropped Dinesh Karthik and Gautam Gambhir, opting instead for Mohammad Kaif, Dinesh Mongia, Murali Kartik, and M.S. Dhoni. Interestingly, both Kumble and Laxman – regulars in the Test sides – had been struggling to make it to the ODI team of late. In fact, both had been left out for the ODIs against Bangladesh in December 2004 as well.

Thus Dhoni made his debut in that series. Though he didn’t get too many opportunities with the bat, his aggressive batting in the domestic games ensured that he got the nod ahead of Karthik, who kept wicket in the just-concluded Test series against Pakistan.

During the second match of the 2004 ODI series against Pakistan at Vishakapatnam, Singh got a call from a slightly anxious Chowdhury. ‘He is opening with Virender Sehwag. Hope he does well, otherwise, it will be extremely difficult for us to push this fellow,’ said a worried-sounding Chowdhury. While Singh agreed, he was reluctant to talk because his eyes were fixed on the television. He could do nothing but watch the match and pray for his protégé.

As the match progressed, Singh’s confidence soared. ‘For some strange reason, I had a feeling that Dhoni would score a big one this time. I told Amitabh [Chowdhury] that he should not worry. Dhoni is now on 40 runs and I have a feeling he will score a century. He is focussed,’ Singh told Chowdhury.

Singh was right. It did turn out to be Dhoni’s day. The Ranchi hurricane got into the act right from the start, making a very good case for opening the innings. Sehwag, in his inimitable style, looked well on course towards scoring the fastest ODI century by an Indian. In one Shahid Afridi over, he slammed four boundaries off the first four balls and then nonchalantly took a single off the fifth to prepare for the next over. But soon, he was sent back to the dressing room when while trying to flick the ball over mid- wicket, he was caught by Salman Butt who timed his jump well to take a good overhead catch. Sehwag scored a spellbinding 70 off just 40 balls, inclusive of 12 boundaries and two sixes. The partnership for the second wicket was an amazing 96 runs in just 10.2 overs at a run-rate of 9.29.

It was now Dhoni’s turn to blaze glory. Initially, he played cautiously looking for singles instead of the big hits. But once he had Rahul Dravid at the other end, he started going for the big shots once again. He was not very elegant but had sheer power flowing from his willow, reminding many of a younger Sehwag. He stroked his way to his first ODI ton off just 88 balls. Thereafter, a fast-tiring Dhoni started to throw his bat at everything with deadly effect.

Pakistani wicket-keeper Kamran Akmal muddled a stumping chance off Afridi when Dhoni was on 126. Dhoni laughed and two deliveries later, the ball was dispatched over the cover boundary. A wide followed and then another six and a powerfully struck four straight down the ground. Pakistani cricketers – especially the bowlers who were rotated time and again by skipper Inzamam Ul Haq – didn’t know what had hit them. The last four balls of that over had yielded 17 runs.

When Dhoni had scored his first ODI hundred, Singh and Chowdhury – both watching the match in different cities – almost jumped from their chairs. They were relieved, greatly relieved.

Dhoni eventually got out swinging hard at a Mohammad Hafeez delivery; the shot that had the height but not the distance was caught well by Shoaib Malik at deep mid-wicket. Dhoni’s score of 148 was the highest score by an Indian against Pakistan, off just 123 balls, with 15 boundaries and four sixes. His score helped him surpass the earlier record for the highest score of 94 by Sameer Dighe against the West Indies at Harare in 2001. The duet with Dravid was worth 149.

Interestingly, Singh remembers two magical moments in the course of Dhoni’s innings. And surprisingly, neither had anything to do with the free-flowing player’s shots. The first was when he completed his century; the second, when he was finally out.

On both occasions, the cameras panned to the team dressing room, where up on his feet stood Sehwag, furiously applauding his opening partner’s game. In fact, Sehwag clapped right through as Dhoni walked into the galleries. And as a young Dhoni walked up to the dressing room, he was grabbed and hugged by Sehwag, who also slapped him on the back. Dhoni’s smile got wider.

To Singh and Chowdhury, and to the cricket selectors, the signal was clear: here was a new go-to guy for quick runs who had emerged on India’s cricketing tarmac without a shadow of fear in his heart or doubt in his mind. Thanks to his batting, India posted a total of 356 for 9 and eventually won the match.

The cameras remained glued to the dressing room where everyone was in a mad rush to hug Dhoni, the new star of the team. The lanky Yuvraj Singh, wearing his pads, rushed to lift him. And then the cameras moved to the pitch because the new batsman had already walked into the ground.

‘He is in the side, he has cemented his place. He played brilliantly. He is the star of Jharkhand. There will be no one like him. Now, no one will humiliate us anymore. We will walk into any stadium with pride,’ screamed Singh to Chowdhury after the match at Vishakapatnam got over. This time, it was Chowdhury’s turn to spring a surprise. The IPS officer, who had worked tirelessly along with Singh to push Dhoni’s cricket career, remained silent for precisely four seconds. And then he said: ‘I have a feeling he will re-write the record by the end of this year. He will create yet another record in this series.’

Dhoni did score more runs in another innings. It happened in a faraway Sawai Man Singh Stadium in Jaipur. That, of course, was another story. 12 It’s my Night, India’s Might: The ICC World Cup

For many of the hundreds of thousands who visit Mumbai every year, the Siddhivinayak temple is arguably the city’s most important landmark – one that is quintessentially linked to the $20 trillion business that gets conducted annually in India’s financial capital. The temple, in fact, is as much of a draw as the city’s two other famous landmarks – the towering Bombay Stock Exchange (BSE) building and the Goregaon Film City, home to several of the movies produced by one of the world’s most prolific film industries.

The temple rules are very strict and are not bent even for the very very important persons (VVIPs) who happen to call Mumbai home. Occasionally, there are media reports about the state chief minister or the city’s top film stars asking for special darshan – requests that have never been granted by temple trustees, according to whom one meets Lord Ganesha at his convenience and not the other way around.

But even the stoic and unbending priests can be star struck. On 31 March 2011 on the eve of the country’s most important sporting date – the ICC World Cup final that had India in the finals after 28 long years – the temple priests waited with bated breath as they anxiously hoped that two people would come to the temple looking for blessings from the elephant God. The much awaited and hoped for visitors were members of India’s cricket team – one of them a global icon and a local Mumbai lad, while the other, the captain of the Indian team, hailing from the small town of Ranchi.

But the priests were disappointed, as were the scores of reporters from television channels who were lined up on the streets, along with their outdoor broadcasting vans, near the iconic Taj Mahal hotel, hoping to catch a glimpse of the two players before they returned to the hotel for the night.

Neither Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar nor Mahendra Singh Dhoni visited the temple before the crucial ICC World Cup finals against Sri Lanka. They, along with other members of the team – were told not to leave the hotel in Mumbai’s Colaba area. In fact, some of the players who wished to visit temples were told to pray in their rooms, if the need be with priests organized from local temples. The BCCI top brass did not want the team’s concentration levels to be affected at any cost. India, after all, was the host nation.

There was restricted access to the Taj Mahal Hotel for 48 hours before the start of the match. The reasons were obvious. Post 26/11, security had been on an all-time high in the city and the police was already having a nightmarish time in controlling a crowd that was swelling outside the hotel by the hour. The hotel authorities were swamped with multiple requests from fans, mostly girls, trying to meet the cricketers. Some brought cakes, some scented candles, some all-the-best letters written in blood, and yet some others who brought teddy bears with love signs. Each one of them was told to leave everything at the reception. Amongst the various shows of affection and encouragement for the team was a group of fans who had marched all the way from Siddhivinayak, halting and praying on the way at Haaji Ali and a church near Colaba before reaching the Taj. They were politely told to leave their prayer note with the concierge. Tired of being stonewalled, some of the fans had gone all the way back from the Taj Hotel to Juhu to seek out Abhishek Bachchan from his family home and sought his wishes for the final. The guards at Jalsa were initially reluctant to send a word to Abhishek but once they did, they were very surprised to see Bachchan Jr agreeing to come out, greet the fans and say a few words, remarking how he found some distinct similarities between Sachin and his father, both national icons.

Meanwhile, at the Gateway of India, those not keen on cricket but wanting to feed hundreds of pigeons fluttering around the structure were annoyed. They were told to walk through a metal detector and then feed the birds. Mumbai – it seemed to many – was nervously perched on a powder keg, which could explode any minute.

Matters were tense inside the hotel too. The pressure of playing in the ICC World Cup final was taking a heavy toll on the players. Both Tendulkar and Dhoni were urging their teammates to remain focused solely on the match and not think of anything else. The team’s coach Gary Kirsten – with his bags packed and set to return to South Africa after a four-year stint with the Indian national team – was telling players much the same thing.

Inside their respective rooms, both Tendulkar and Dhoni remained unusually silent.

Tendulkar was thinking back to what former teammate, and now ESPN Star Sports commentator, Ravi Shastri had said to him a few days ago after India had beaten Pakistan in the semi-finals at Mohali: ‘The pressure on you will be higher than on Dhoni. Indians do not just want the Cup, they want it with a century from Sachin in Mumbai, his home.’

Shastri, himself a Mumbaikar, had previously warded off some pesky television reporters when he was asked if he was expecting a century from Tendulkar in the finals. Shastri was firm in his response: ‘If it is a century, anyone who gets it has to work hard. He cannot buy it off the shelf. And for God’s sake, do not increase any pressure on the home side. They need to play their natural game. Please do not burden them with unnecessary pressures.’

Tendulkar, the senior-most player in the team, was all too aware of the tremendous pressure the team was under. India, the cricketing world’s craziest nation, wanted nothing short of a victory.

Meanwhile, in Dhoni’s room, his handset blinked every five seconds with messages from all across the country and the world. A bulk of the messages came from his hometown, Ranchi. Despite recognizing the good intentions behind the messages, Dhoni was livid that his phone number – one that he had acquired just before the tournament – was so easily accessible to so many.

With do-not-disturb instructions in place, there was no way that the hotel phone in his room would ring, with the exception of course of calls from teammates who wanted to check on specifics or training schedules. A restless Dhoni switched between pacing around in his room, watching television and occasionally looking out of the window at the swirling waves of the Arabian Sea lashing the Colaba shores. His mind buzzing with thoughts: He had already won one World Cup for T20, would he win the second one too? Would Mumbai bring him luck the next day? Deep in his reverie, Dhoni almost did not hear the phone ring. It was well past 8 p.m. as Dhoni walked across the room to pick up the phone from the cradle.

Who could be calling him at this hour, he wondered? It could be the priest from the temple of Deori Mata, or it could be his sister, brother-in-law, it could also be the BCCI president, N. Srinivasan, Dhoni mused before putting the receiver to his ear. The voice on the other side was not familiar. Dhoni – who had not spoken for over three hours – decided to pursue the conversation. All his earlier guesswork went for a toss when he realized that the unfamiliar voice belonged to former India Test and ODI player Vinod Kambli – the cricketer who had started his career with the legendary Tendulkar but eventually lost his game to a host of reasons that also included marital discord.

The Indian skipper soon realized that Kambli was indeed sobbing. He wanted to say something, but he could not say it. And then, he abruptly hung up., Dhoni held Kambli in high regard because he had broken his and Tendulkar’s [yes, this is correct] mega school record single handedly during a school match in Ranchi and had always wanted to have a word with Indian cricket’s lost wonder boy.

He called again. This time around Kambli had composed himself, but just barely, felt Dhoni. And then Kambli spoke: ‘Kal ki raat tumhari hogi, honi paregi, Tum jeetogey (Tomorrow’s night must be yours, it has to be, you will win). You must win the night for India. For me, especially, because I also got a chance once in the semi-finals of the Reliance World Cup in 1987 before a jam-packed Eden Gardens in Kolkata but failed. We had everything, the crowds, the support, everything. Except we played badly, I was not out. I wanted to play but the crowds did not pardon the players for their reckless batting and bowling. Sri Lanka was all over us. You, you must win.’ Dhoni responded: ‘I will try and God willing, India will win.’ Assured that Dhoni had taken note of what he had to say, Kambli hung up.

For a few moments, Dhoni stood there speechless and with the receiver still glued to his ear, and then, as if in a trance, he kept the phone down. Almost instantly, he clasped his face in his palms and wondered what all went through with him and the team before it entered the finals of the 2011 ICC World Cup, cricket’s most prestigious trophy. The Indian skipper remembered many things. He remembered how a crucial match against Australia was won, and then he remembered the semi-finals where – lucky for the hosts – butter-fingered Pakistani fielders dropped Tendulkar a number of times, much to the relief of the local fans at Mohali. Dhoni remembered how he kept interacting with his boys through messages, perking them up throughout the tournament.

It was 10.49 p.m. on 2 April and as Dhoni hit Thisara Perera’s delivery for a six over the point into the northern stands, 45,000 fans in the sardine-packed newly-renovated Wankhade Stadium erupted in thunderous joy. With that one shot, Dhoni ensured India’s victory in the ICC World Cup for the second time.

Celebrations swept the country. Back in the stadium, the sweat-soaked Team India were doused in champagne and sprayed with confetti. However, champion coach Gary Kirsten wore a look of concern rather than one of unmitigated joy.

It was time for a historic photo-op but his star pupil, the man who had led the team to victory in the ICC World Cup after 28 yearning years, was nowhere to be found. TV crew members eventually saw 30- year-old Mahendra Singh Dhoni, emerging from the dressing room in a sleeveless T-shirt. Some wondered whether – like the T20 World Cup in South Africa three years ago – he had gifted his T-shirt to an enthusiastic fan.

Dhoni joined in the festivities but did not utter a word. His face was an oasis of peace in the storm of madness that was sweeping across India’s cities and towns. He stayed in the background, subtly aloof and carefully apart, allowing Virat Kohli and Yusuf Pathan to lift cricketing icon Tendulkar on their shoulders for a short victory lap near the Grand Stand. When someone made the point that he should be the man held aloft, he quietly pointed at Tendulkar. ‘It is his night.’ And then Dhoni rushed over to hand a small Tricolour to the Master Blaster. Dhoni saw that Sachin was weeping – a scene that was repeated several times by broadcasting channels. Dhoni knew he had done the right thing for a man who had carried Indian cricket on his shoulders for a little over a quarter century. ‘If we do not lift him on our shoulders tonight, when will we?’ remarked an emotional Virat Kohli to Dhoni. Kohli was right. More than Dhoni, it was Tendulkar’s night, his moment.

While he was happy to step back and allow others to bask in the glory of this much sought-after victory, Dhoni had not gotten off to the best of starts in the tournament. As he led India’s assault on the World Cup, it seemed the once-invincible Dhoni – winner of the first World T20 championship in 2007, captain of the IPL3 and Champions League 2 winning team, Chennai Super Kings and indeed leader of the world’s topmost Test playing nation – could do no right.

Dhoni had pushed for the inclusion of the untested Piyush Chawla, opted for an out-of-sorts Ashish Nehra and kept an in-form R. Ashwin out of the side ropes. He headed into the tournament with a team whose fielding skills were laughable at best and with fitness levels, which according to cricket pundits all over the world were a matter of joke. His own form was being questioned too – in the eight matches leading to the final his total score was an unimpressive 150. Astrologers predicted a World Cup loss and some of his bitter critics – those in the commentary box – were calling him a spent force.

But Dhoni had not been bothered. He knew what was expected from him and his team and what was needed to deliver it. On the field, Dhoni was neither the cricketer who couldn’t afford his own cricketing kit 15 years ago nor India’s most valued and richest cricketer, earning a little over 70 crore in endorsements alone – he was a man of action with victory on his mind.

Much before his history making six on the night of 2 April, Dhoni had led his men through a tough nine-match journey – often gently calming frayed nerves – to a magnificent and much-longed-for win. Dhoni knew his team was prone to distractions during the long gaps between each match and he made sure that he was well connected with his players at all times. Once, he messaged his teammates from the Ranchi stadium during the closing ceremony of the National Games where he was invited as a chief guest, checking daily schedules of the players. The messages were not warnings, nor a way of keeping tabs on the players’ movements, they were in fact simple lines of encouragement. ‘Hope you had your mandatory dancing class today?’ Dhoni messaged to one, to another, he jokingly said: ‘Orange juice tastes good in the evening.’ The messages were received by his teammates in good humour, with them understanding the underlying meanings as well. ‘He was aware of the pressures of the World Cup and the previous debacle in the subcontinent. He knew what it means to lose a World Cup at home,’ says Rajiv Shukla, a top BCCI official and now a cabinet minister.

During the tournament, there were many who talked about a growing rift between Dhoni and Yuvraj Singh. There was a cryptic comment that made its way into the newspaper columns: ‘We play and he goes to take the trophy’. Who was the source of this statement? Was it a true reflection of the mindset of some members about the captain? No one knew the answer. But what one saw in the finals was the exact opposite of the above sentiment. The captain first paired with Gambhir and then with Yuvraj Singh to seal the innings. By then, Singh had already been named ‘Man of the Tournament’. After Dhoni hit the winning stroke, an elated Singh rushed, jumped and hugged his captain before breaking down into a paroxysm of sobbing. And at the mandatory press conference post the match, the two sat together, holding hands like brothers. ‘Dhoni has magic in his hands, whatever he touches, turns to gold,’ said an emotional Singh. The captain’s response to this was: ‘Yuvi is king, when he plays, we win.’ Dhoni was still holding Singh’s hand, reminiscent of the 1983 Prudential Cup victory, post which the then skipper Kapil Dev held the hand of the legendary Sunil Gavaskar. It was a bonding Kapil wanted with an integral member of the team with whom he often had serious arguments in the dressing room. But after a World Cup win, it was time to drop the past and celebrate the future. Dhoni was no different.

Only Dhoni could have done this – lead India to World Cup victory, for only a skipper who had helped the country win the inaugural T20 World Cup and has helped the side reach and win the finals of the ICC World Cup could sit and contemplate where it all began. In Dhoni’s case, the journey had begun in Ranchi over a decade and a half ago, with Paramjit Singh, owner of a sports equipment store, helping him clear the first hurdle in his sporting life.

Singh, who had played galli cricket with Dhoni in Ranchi’s Jawahar Vidya Mandir School, had spent weeks persuading the Ludhiana-based Beat All Sports (BAS) to supply his protégé with an annual quota of bats and cricket gear. Those were the days when both Singh and Dhoni were struggling: one had not even established his shop and the other had just started to show promise in inter-school matches where records were rarely kept and where cricket balls, often in short supply, were replaced with those from tennis courts.

Singh, painstakingly called the BAS bat makers, Sumi and Ramesh Kohli, in faraway Ludhiana, almost every day. He told them about the Ranchi boy with the potential for a glittering cricketing future and asked them to sponsor the gear to set him off on a sporting career. Singh’s requests were initially ignored, but his persistence finally paid off and Dhoni began to play.

Not long after it seemed to Dhoni that India had finally realized his potential. He told his close friends – some from Bollywood – that he remembered his life in the hills, in Ranchi, without cricket, and with cricket. He remembered some of the gutsy innings he had played for India. ‘Everything went through my mind as I walked into my room in the hotel. I remembered many things, many, many things that happened to me – from childhood till now – it was a strange feeling,’ he told his friends. In August 2004, playing in Nairobi, a 23-year-old Dhoni savaged a Pakistan-A side and scored consecutive centuries. Four months later, he made his ODI debut in Chittagong and was run out for a duck. He finished the three-match series with a tally of a meager 19 runs. Almost a year later, in December 2005, he made his Test debut in Chennai, this time scoring 30 during a rain-soaked match against Sri Lanka.

In the four years preceding the ICC World Cup Dhoni’s unflappable calm had grown in direct proportion to the expectations around him, keeping him just a cut above his excitable teammates and obsessive fans. Where others used modern game plans and skills from global motivators and career gurus, he used raw talent laced with a personal style. During the semi-final in Mohali he told three players – Yuvraj Singh, Suresh Raina, and Harbhajan Singh, all emotional wrecks, to keep their calm in the high-voltage match against Pakistan that was being watched by the prime ministers of both countries. While he was talking to the troika, he noticed Virender Sehwag sulking in a corner because the skipper had not spoken to him. He went up to Sehwag and told him a lot depends on his safe hands (meaning fielding), instantly reassuring him of his importance in the team.

This pep talk was to pay off: as Harbhajan Singh came in to bowl the 42nd over, Pakistan skipper Shahid Afridi went for a big hit and Sehwag took a very difficult catch to send Afridi back to the dressing room. Imran Khan, Pakistan’s legendary cricketer and current politician, called it the turning point of the semi-finals. ‘Afridi’s departure was a death signal for Pakistan,’ Khan told journalists later.

Dhoni knew his cricket, he followed his heart. He did not require pep-up slogans from motivational guru Sandy Gordon (Now or Never in the 2003 ICC World Cup campaign and Change the Trend in the 2004 campaign in Down Under), nor would he get excited by high-voltage management speak (the BCCI offered consultations for the team members with a few marketing gurus and television channel owners like Prannoy Roy [the last named was an unmitigated disaster because team members asked him to explain how his Gandhian approach would work in face of a hostile Indian media]). Dhoni continued to go with his gut – whether it was picking Piyush Chawla for the World Cup (because the bowler was successful abroad) or persisting with S. Sreesanth in the finals even when the southpaw had nearly lost India the opening match against Bangladesh with a horrific spell of 5 overs and 55 runs.

‘He is unafraid to take chances, to run the impossible risk and win the impossible gambit,’ teammate Suresh Raina told a news channel after the victory. Raina, a close member of what is known in Team India as the Mahi Gang, was referring to the captain’s unerring instinct and steadfast calm. The attitude helped him in the face of incessant pressure from the selectors, who were often pushing some of their favourites. ‘No one called him for anything. No one from the board wanted to push their candidates. Dhoni wanted to be the man in charge, and he was the man in charge,’ says K. Srikkanth. Srikkanth, then India’s chief selector and a former Indian captain himself was happy to dispel rumours that he was personally unhappy with Dhoni because he had ignored R. Ashwin, a top Tamil Nadu player with loads of talent almost through the World Cup. After all, Dhoni told his confidantes, ‘Didn’t Ganguly keep the legendary Anil Kumble on the ropes for the entire 2003 World Cup in South Africa? So, why can’t I experiment? Why should I be answerable to everyone?’ ‘The captain knows what to do. Dhoni did what he felt should be done. That’s all I can say,’ remarked N. Srinivasan, the BCCI president who also found himself in the gossip columns of the newspapers for resenting Dhoni’s decision to keep Ashwin on the sidelines during the World Cup.

There are many things that go into making an icon: with determination and success, humility, too, is very important. Despite having celebrity friends such as actors Bipasha Basu and John Abraham, Dhoni remains true to Ranchi, continuing to live there in a duplex home whose only fancy attribute is a swimming pool. He has transformed Ranchi from a traditional hockey town into a burgeoning cricket centre with over 60 coaching clubs (in 2001, there were only two).

Soon after India won the World Cup, over 60 cameramen camped at Ranchi’s Birsa Munda airport to receive the elusive Dhoni. The first day, even Jharkhand Chief Minister Arjun Munda, waited for over an hour listening to countless demands for renaming the airport after Dhoni.

And when Dhoni failed to show up in Ranchi, the crowds went berserk outside his new home demanding that his parents allow them to worship – in the absence of the man – his bikes and cars. ‘This is an unreasonable demand. Mera beta Ram nahin hai. Jab ayega, aap logo se jaroor milega (My son is not Lord Ram. When he comes, he will surely meet you),’ Paan Singh, pacified the supporters.

Meanwhile in Delhi, even as the Election Commission was making him the national mascot and the Indian Air Force chief P.V. Naik was promising him a ride, along with his childhood hero Tendulkar, in a fighter aircraft, Dhoni’s mind was zoning into the next challenge. The Indian cricket captain had had a detailed conversation with N. Srinivasan on the fourth edition of the Indian Premier League (IPL) which was to commence on 8 April in Chennai. ‘He is my Man Friday, a captain in whom I have implicit trust,’ says Srinivasan.

True to his character, Dhoni led Chennai Super Kings to victory against Mumbai Indians in the world’s richest cricket tournament and then rather than stay back to party, he was on the first flight home to Ranchi.

His family insists that Dhoni is at ease in cricket’s world of bling and baubles because of his grounded, simple upbringing. ‘My brother will never overdo anything. He is humble, has a workman’s ethic and a clear sense of responsibility. When Jharkhand government offered him a Ph.D, he refused because he didn’t complete his graduation,’ says Jayanti Gupta, his 36-year-old sister who is a teacher at Dhoni’s former school in Ranchi’s Shyamali neighbourhood. She says her brother owes his strength to their mother Devki who encouraged him to play cricket. He calls her after every match. When he is playing, she prays to Krishna for his success.

Apart from his bikes, her brother has just one fetish – the number seven. He takes his lucky number very seriously, probably because he was born on the seventh of July 1981. His cricket T-shirt is numbered 7, and he has a diamond locket with that number. All his rides also have the number 007.

Such touchstones help him navigate the high pressure world of top cricket. In 2009, Dhoni was the subject of rampant criticism for sacking Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid from the CB series in Australia but was eventually vindicated when India won the Australian triangular event 2-0 for the first time. ‘I remember when Dhoni dropped those two former captains (Dravid and Ganguly) by arguing their poor running between the wickets and shoddy fielding was impacting young players of the side. It was a tough call for a young man but he knew what he was doing. He backed his decision with reason,’ says a selector, requesting anonymity. And when reporters hounded Dhoni at Melbourne over the sacking of those two former captains, he calmly said: ‘It seems you are more worried than those sacked.’

That’s Dhoni for you. Those who have followed him for long say the Indian captain is making all the right moves, at times riding on sheer luck. ‘He will have a great game plan for Ashwin as well. They are part of the same team in IPL,’ says former West Indies skipper Clive Lloyd, adding Dhoni’s ability to grab the slimmest opportunity is one of the key factors behind his spectacular success.

His brand managers believe Dhoni continues to be too low profile. ‘I was surprised when a bomb squad checked my suite because Dhoni suddenly decided to come to my room,’ says Harish Thawani, CEO, Neo Sports. It was during the third ODI between India and England at Mohali on 30 October 2011 when Dhoni wanted to cut a cake for a Neo cameraman, Rajneesh Sharma. Dhoni usually travels without warning because he tries hard to stay out of the limelight.

He plays the game on its merit, taking what seem like risky decisions with apparent ease. Greater players than him may well have baulked at giving the untested Joginder Sharma the last over to bowl in the T20 final against Pakistan in Johannesburg in 2007 and they would certainly not have summoned a rookie Praveen Kumar to open the bowling in Australia in 2008 – but Dhoni did both, convinced of his instincts and their talent.

A BCCI insider remembers how selectors repeatedly asked Dhoni whether he was comfortable leading the side in the inaugural T20 without three top players – Tendulkar, Dravid, and Ganguly. Dravid and Ganguly were dropped from the side earlier and Tendulkar had excused himself from the side. ‘I play with what I have, not with what I don’t have,’ was Dhoni’s response.

And after the T20 World Cup win, a young Dhoni had curtly told Shastri: ‘Ravi, let me tell you that we have proved you and your cricket analysis wrong. We have won.’

Dhoni – Indian cricket’s greatest gambler – had been given the mantle of captaincy by default, when Indian cricket was at its lowest ebb after the 2007 World Cup disaster. Dhoni had no godfather who offered him the leadership role – Dravid had Sharad Pawar, Ganguly had Jagmohan Dalmiya, and Mohammed Azharuddin had Raj Singh Dungarpur. Dhoni may well have been the good boy sent to the guillotine. But he handled the job well. Each team selection was done on a scientific basis and with utmost professionalism.

During the 2011 World Cup, he didn’t mince words when he openly told reporters that his main worry was the side’s fitness which, in turn, would surely impact India’s bowling and fielding. But when he sensed that his honesty could mean negative headlines for the side, he laughingly said everything is forgiven as long as the side is winning.

But those close to him say he constantly prodded Kirsten to provide quick-fix solutions for the players’ fitness because he was aware of the pressures of playing the Cup at home. Yuvraj Singh, the all-rounder who overcame his poor form to win the Man of the Tournament title, was routinely pushed by the captain not to lose focus. ‘It is your game, your team, your Cup. Just do not lose your concentration, otherwise you will miss the bus,’ Dhoni told Singh.

‘He will do anything because he does not have an ego,’ says his school coach Keshav Banerjee, 50, recalling how – in 2005 before heading for Pakistan – Dhoni asked for practice in a shortened pitch. His coach got tennis balls soaked in water overnight. The idea: he wanted to learn how to handle world- class bowlers like Shoaib Akhtar.

His uber-cool attitude even when everything around him is crashing helps the cricket captain handle pressure. When India beat Bangladesh in the opener in Dhaka, he told the coach: ‘Keep the champagne ready, we will uncork it in Wankhade.’ When India tied with England at Bangalore, he charged his teammates in the dressing room with some family jokes. After the victory over Australia, he told everyone to stay put in the hotel, saying the semi-final against Pakistan at Mohali was hovering on his mind – he also sought advice from some old timers – and when India won in Mohali, he huddled in his room with some of the key members – Yuvraj, Tendulkar, Raina, Kohli, Harbhajan, and Zaheer – explaining why it was extremely important to restore credibility among the fans in the finals by winning at Wankhade. But before he told them anything, he asked the teammates to speak and share what was on their respective minds. Nothing perhaps marks the shift in Team India more than these two contrasting images: One is of a boisterous Ganguly waving his shirt like a victory banner from the balcony of Lord’s after winning the Natwest finals in 2002, and the other is of Dhoni celebrating the 2011 victory by turning his face away from the camera. One was a belligerent announcement of India’s sudden ascent on the world stage by the entitled princling of a well-to-do Kolkata family. The other was a more assured declaration of permanent intent: that Team India will have many more moments to celebrate. As will its Captain Fantastic. 13 A Lone King

It was 11 a.m. on the morning of 17 December 2012, the last day of the fourth India-versus-England Test match in the Airtel series at Nagpur’s VCA grounds, and the teams had just finished their first drinks break of the day, when a twitter buzz swept the stadium: Is D2 out? The men being referred to were – the by then beleaguered Indian skipper Mahendra Singh Dhoni and his trusted confidant, Team India’s coach Duncan Fletcher.

A second tweet followed barely ten minutes later: Sachin has played the last Test. This one came from veteran cricket commentator Richie Benaud all the way from far-flung Adelaide. Adding fuel to the fire was the Master Blaster’s decision – then going through one of his worst phases – not to field after the first drinks break. Further grist was added to the rumour mill when Anjali Tendulkar, the physician-wife of India’s most valued cricketer, suddenly decided to fly down from Mumbai to give her husband company in Nagpur.

Meanwhile on the field, Virat Kohli – the super striker from Delhi who had cracked a century in the Nagpur Test was already being pushed for Test captaincy by none other than Sunil Gavaskar – calmly walked up to the skipper and told him about the tweets and countless Facebook posts that were doing the rounds. Kohli, claims a Team India insider, was informed by team support staff who had walked close to the boundary ropes to share the news. Dhoni did not react. He merely said: ‘There will be much more hell for the three of us. Let’s first finish the match.’

The voices calling for Dhoni’s sacking had first emerged in Kolkata, – encouraged by those close to the former Indian skipper Saurav Ganguly (read Ashok Malhotra and Arun Lal). They argued for the need for a fresh face and a fresh approach. But this was instantly silenced by Indian cricket’s all-powerful Big Boss, N. Srinivasan. By the end of England tour of India the voices became progressively louder until they reached a crescendo. The Indian skipper had had a poor showing the previous year – winning just three out of fourteen Tests (six at home and eight abroad). As a result he had to face similar pressures in the last two series in England and Australia respectively. Such was the pressure on him that Dhoni remarked to a journalist that if the Test captaincy was taken off his plate, life would be smoother for him. Sports scribes present in Australia, however, did not ask him whether his sudden remark was inspired by Tendulkar who had also, despite relinquishing his captaincy a while ago, continued to remain an integral part of the team. Ironically, it was Tendulkar himself who had pushed for Dhoni to assume the captaincy just before the team was announced for the 2007 T20 inaugural World Cup in South Africa after Rahul Dravid had stepped down.

If the calls for his sacking had been loud during the series, with Dhoni now back home, the demand for his dismissal as the captain was deafening.

K. Srikkanth, who had backed Dhoni to the hilt while he sat in the chief selector’s seat, was now singing an altogether different tune just days after relinquishing the top job: ‘Let Sachin take his own call, but it would not be a bad idea to keep Dhoni for the shorter version of the game,’ Srikkanth commented. And when television news channels hooked him up live for his reactions, he walked out of show. It happened a number of times on the IBN7 Hindi channel – a part of the TV18 Network – where anchor Sandeep Chaudhary was all at sea interacting with the former Indian skipper who would not even utter a word about the current Indian skipper. ‘Say something,’ argued Chaudhary. Srikkanth did not. Also, Srikkanth was no longer with Chennai Super Kings – Dhoni’s IPL team – having switched his allegiance to the newly formed Hyderabad IPL team that had taken over the Deccan Chargers. Thus, he no longer needed to dance to BCCI president N. Srinivasan’s tunes, nor was he required to back the Indian skipper at all.

No one asked the Chennai-based Srikkanth what had prompted the change of heart, though the switch in attitude did irk many, especially those who had been critical of the former Indian captain ever since he was made the chief selector.

‘Someone should ask this person (Srikkanth) why didn’t he himself initiate a change when he was the chairman of the selection committee?’ asked former skipper Bishan Singh Bedi.

Dhoni was equally, if not more, perturbed than the others.

Previously, when Mohinder Amarnath had bayed for his blood, Dhoni had the selectors on his side, including Srinivasan – the man with the power to veto any call taken by the selectors. This time around Srinivasan had already defended Dhoni once. Srinivasan had spoken in Dhoni’s defence against the vitriolic attack launched by Amarnath, then a selector. The former all-rounder had made his demand for sacking Dhoni and replacing him with Virender Sehwag public on a television channel. However since then, like all other BCCI officials, Srinivasan too maintained a stony silence in the face of the media blitz demanding Dhoni’s scalp. Privately, the BCCI president had turned to his troubleshooters, which included the Delhi-based image management company Perfect Relations, to bail him (and Dhoni) out of the crisis. ‘After all, it is cricket. It is a game, not life. It will have ups and down. This man has got us two World Cups,’ was Srinivasan’s brief to the image builders whom he had summoned to his fourth-floor India Cements office near Chennai’s Marina Beach for a detailed conversation. Newspaper editors were flown to Chennai for in-depth interviews with the BCCI president who conveyed his ‘viewpoint’ and ensured it was prominently carried in the publications and aired on television channels. Very few knew what transpired exactly but it was clear that Dhoni had been told to get the Blue Billion Express back on the winning track. ‘Only that can save you,’ was Srinivasan’s crystal clear message to Dhoni.

While Dhoni’s slow, yet steady isolation within the team was becoming apparent to many, it was also clear that he had Srinivasan’s support. The board president told the selectors that it would be wrong to sack Dhoni before the crucial Pakistan series that was due to commence in December 2012. At least three selectors, who were pushing for Gambhir to be anointed as the captain of the side, were told to be patient with the current skipper.

Meanwhile, Amarnath, who had argued vociferously for Dhoni’s sack and eventually left the selection committee of his own accord, reportedly under pressure from Srinivasan and Dhoni. ‘I am not going to reiterate what I did. I asked for a change in the captaincy. And it was not granted. I cannot answer why,’ said Amarnath.

Around the time when Amarnath was venting ire, Dhoni’s critics found yet another reason to lambast him. The Indian skipper had a serious run in with Prabir Mukherjee, an 82-year-old curator at the Eden Gardens in Kolkata, after the latter refused to toe Dhoni’s demand for a ‘slow pitch’ for a five-day Test match between India and England starting in the first week of December 2012. Mukherjee gave Dhoni the thumbs down and walked out of the ground, refusing to return. Again, Srinivasan had to intervene and ask the Cricket Association of Bengal (CAB) president Jagmohan Dalmiya to resolve the crisis by reining in Mukherjee.

However, across social networks cricketing fans were asking: Did the Indian cricket captain have the right to order pitches that turned from the start? Majority answered in negative. Dhoni, normally a darling of the public and the media, had lost some face. The move was also not liked by former selector Ashok Malhotra, who had made Kolkata his home a few years ago. He told reporters that he had not liked Dhoni’s stubborn attitude. ‘You will have to be humble, accept defeat and admit there were flaws in our handling the side. I do not expect the Indian captain to get into a slugfest with a pitch curator,’ said Malhotra. However, Dhoni did get his way in Mumbai, where India lost, but not in Kolkata or Nagpur.

Burdened by the insurmountable pressure, a sense of loneliness slowly gripped Dhoni. The Indian captain seemed to have silenced the critics about his own performance with a superlative 99 in the Nagpur Test but could do nothing about his team’s performance. In private conversations with his business partner, Arun Pandey, Dhoni had expressed his near-total helplessness against the nationwide demand for his sack.

In his daily conversations with Srinivasan, Dhoni – who many claim enjoys the BCCI president’s total confidence – had asked for the instant removal of Gautam Gambhir, blaming the opener for not being a team player. ‘Murali Vijay is the best person to fill that slot,’ he told Srinivasan.

There were other issues bothering him as well. Dhoni had been upset about the fact that he had no clarity about Tendulkar’s eventual retirement plans but did not raise it because he was aware of the status enjoyed by the Master Blaster’s within the board. As the captain of the side he believed he had the right to know. He also wanted to know whether the board would agree to the immediate induction of Rohit Sharma and Manoj Tiwari into the side. But this time, Srinivasan explained – in no uncertain terms – to Dhoni that he had the right to ask about anyone in the side, except the ‘God’ of Indian cricket. Dhoni got the message loud and clear.

The Indian skipper was aware that things for him were slowly, yet steadily, falling apart. And he was trying hard to hold the Blue Billion Express together. During the Kolkata match against England in December 2012, he was horrified to learn that some of the players were calling Johannesburg to speak to Paddy Upton – Team India’s former mental conditioning coach – to figure out how to overcome tensions both on and off the field. This was not good news for Dhoni.

Earlier, the team management had ensured that there were three meetings that took place before each day’s game – the bowlers, the batsmen, and the overall team meeting. Now, BCCI insiders claimed that the batsmen meeting had – for all practical purposes – died a slow death, the skipper and the coach rarely attended the bowlers’ meeting and the overall team meeting barely lasted beyond fifteen minutes.

Dhoni was aware of these internal tensions and – claim those close to him – tried his best to stem the rot, but he no longer enjoyed each player’s unflinching support. The fissures within the team were clear for everyone to see.

He was also surprised and pained by the vitriolic attack launched by former Indian captain Sunil Gavaskar right after the Kolkata Test. Gavaskar had strongly criticized Team India for playing a game of football at the Eden Gardens hours after their loss to England. Saurav Ganguly also supported Gavaskar’s comments on that football practice. ‘What would make him happy, us weeping about the loss? We have to go on with life. After all, it is a game, isn’t it?’ was Dhoni’s cryptic response to a panicky call from a relative in Ranchi.

But this time, the demand for his scalp was refusing to die down. Dhoni genuinely felt isolated. His confidants, who called him regularly to update him on the media onslaught, called him yet again and this time what Dhoni heard was just unfathomable. News channels were reporting the death of his dog, Zara, insinuating that the animal must have died of shame following the master’s pathetic performance on the field. ‘It was actually bizarre. We had requests from loads of news channels for footage of the dead dog,’ claimed Sundeep Misra, a sports writer and one of the promoters of Network1, a television software company operating out of Noida near Delhi.

There was no doubt that Indian cricket’s richest player – whose earnings per hour had been compared to that of Mukesh Ambani by the Economic Times – was facing unbearable heat from both within and outside the team. ‘Why is my attitude in question? Can’t I say the batsmen failed us?’ he asked Tendulkar after England completed a 2-1 series win. The former skipper, also in the docks because of his poor performance, merely asked Dhoni to keep his calm. ‘Indians are the world’s most passionate cricket fans. They are high when the team is on a high, wild when the team is on a low. All they need is a win,’ Tendulkar told him as team members packed their kits to leave the hotel.

Dhoni agreed. He also realized that he had not helped himself either. Earlier in the year, he had deliberately not taken calls from his senior colleague V.V.S. Laxman, who wanted to know from him whether it was true that the skipper wanted him to resign. Laxman, who like Rahul Dravid is considered Team India’s Mr. Decent, quietly resigned and made his disgust for the skipper known to some of his close friends. Then there was Sehwag, who had harbored ambitions about the captaincy and was pushing the selectors to make him the Test captain. His efforts came to naught when Srinivasan nixed Amarnath’s demand, saying Sehwag would be better off concentrating on both his batting and his fitness.

Many saw a Dhoni hand behind it. The Indian captain had earlier talked of poor fielding by some senior teammates and putting in place a rotation policy that many felt was controversial and – expectedly – created a rift within the team. In Brisbane in 2012, Sehwag who was already under fire from Dhoni for being slow and ineffective, spoke to journalists and said that he didn’t know that fielding abilities had anything to do with the board’s rotation policy. Many saw this as an apparent dig at Dhoni. A grim-looking Sehwag further commented that he or any of the other senior players had never been told that their ‘slow fielding’ was an issue.

‘I did not know what he (Dhoni) has said and what’s going on in media. He told us he wanted to give a chance to youngsters who had come here and that this could help prepare them to play the next World Cup. That’s what he told us,’ said Sehwag. After the crushing defeat against Australia in the tri- series, Dhoni said that the three seniors – Sehwag, Tendulkar, and Gambhir – were not being picked together for the tri-series and were played in rotation because they were slow and could cost the side at least 20 extra runs in the ODI.

The day India lost the tri-series game against Australia by 110 runs at the Gabba in Brisbane, Dhoni said the three – if played together – could impact the fielding. ‘It might happen (the three playing together, but) it would affect our fielding in a big way, it’s not only these three, there are quite a few other players who are also slow on the field. If you really add it up, you would have only two or three good fielders.

‘These fielders are not bad, but on these big fields, they are slightly on the slower side. They would be exploited once the ball goes to them, the Australians and Sri Lankans would look for those two or three runs to put pressure on their body. Their throwing and diving needs to be good,’ Dhoni said.

The skipper said fielding in the big grounds of Australia could lead to breakdowns.

‘Batting and bowling is something which has variables but fielding is one department where you can always score. It keeps the morale of the team up, there is intensity.’

Asked if he would clear the air with Dhoni, Sehwag retorted: ‘Why should I have to talk to him? He is the captain and leader. If he and the coach think they need to give a break to top order, I am okay, I have no problem with it.’

The fissures were deepening.

There were other tensions as well. Delhi’s Gautam Gambhir had not liked some of the comments the skipper had made on his form and his game in the Mumbai Test against England. Gambhir, who had been through two rocky years and been exposed outside off stump on harder pitches abroad, had scored 43-odd runs in Mumbai – a match England won to square the series – but it appeared that he was keen to save his wicket and expose tail-enders to the marauding English bowlers.

In sum, the series loss severely exposed Dhoni’s leadership qualities and India’s batting shortcomings after the retirement of batsmen such as Dravid and Laxman.

‘The easiest thing for me to say right now is “I quit captaincy” and be a part of the side. But that’s like running away from the responsibility. Of course there are others who will decide. There is BCCI and the administrative people who also want to look into that (captaincy),’ Dhoni had said after the Kolkata defeat, in response to a query whether India needs a change in captaincy.

In private, he admitted that his captaincy record of the past two years needed serious introspection. Over the previous two years India’s winning rate in Tests stood at a poor 33.33 per cent. Of the 22 Tests played, India had won just seven, lost ten and drawn five.

This, claimed Dhoni’s detractors, were abysmal statistics given that Team India was placed at the top of the ICC rankings not too long ago. Five of these wins came on home turf. Away from home under Dhoni, India lost eight of thirteen matches, managing just two wins in the preceding two years.

‘I agree there were many distractions during this series,’ Dhoni told friends. The Indian skipper, whose habit it is to not read newspapers and watch news television during any series, definitely sounded a little disturbed. However, despite this his calmness seemed to never leave his side. ‘You have to be thick- skinned if you wish to be the Indian cricket captain. I do not know what kind of attacking field my critics are expecting me to place. The team has lost a number of experienced players. The juniors are in a transition phase. Let us give them the time, and space,’ Dhoni said.

He was not keen to speak to Tendulkar and the ever-rising demand for his retirement, nor was he keen to talk about his continued tensions with Gambhir, Sehwag and a few others in the side. With some of his closest friends in Ranchi and Chennai, Dhoni talked about what he thought was an image issue. As a small-town cricketer, who had risen to fame after steering a band of youngsters to the inaugural ICC T20 World Cup in South Africa and the ICC World Cup, he felt that he had actually never fitted the traditional mould of a captain.

Dhoni admitted he was under pressure and that it was, in some ways, also impacting his 200 crore-a- year cash bag that made him the world’s richest cricketer and pegged his earnings over that of legends like Wayne Rooney and Usain Bolt. For the record, only 22 advertisers used the Indian cricket captain in commercials during January-November in 2012. Worse, the number of brands endorsed by him had already fallen to a low of 28 from a high of 43. He also knew that his brand value could dip to one third of his current rate if he lost the Test captaincy.

Pandey, his right-hand man and business partner in Rhiti Sports, argued it was the skipper who cancelled some smaller deals with brands such as the Hindi regional language daily Dainik Bhaskar and Cello Writing Instruments, but eventually admitted that the pressure of losing a number of Test matches was indeed impacting Dhoni. ‘Nothing sells like a win. Everything else is bad news for an impatient advertiser,’ said Pandey.

Agreed Rajeev Shukla, then India’s minister of state for parliamentary affairs and a top BCCI functionary. ‘Some of the demands for his sacking from former cricketers are just too bizarre. Gavaskar himself had said in Nagpur that Dhoni was the best captain. And then one century by (Virat) Kohli changed his impression and now he wants to sack the captain.’

Shukla’s argument notwithstanding, one thing was clear: Dhoni needed to reinvent himself if he wanted to retain the captaincy in all three forms of cricket and bond with some of his worst adversaries in the side. Team India, agreed Dhoni, had found some unique ways to be miserable, both on the field and in the dressing room.

However, a determined Dhoni tried hard to re-bond with his team.

It was in February 2012 that the 30-year-old Indian skipper sat in his $210-a-day Hyatt Regency hotel room in Perth with the door open. It was an evening of despair because the 2011 ICC World Cup winning Indian cricket team had lost the third Test to Australia and was down 0-3 in the four Test series. Two of his teammates gathered the courage to walk into his room, only to find a stone-faced Dhoni sitting on a sofa close to a television. They asked Dhoni if he needed anything. ‘I need all of you, and your help, to understand, what is going wrong with the team and why we are in this mess.’ The players beat a hasty retreat.

The skipper did not react. Wearing Indian cricket’s most valued and troubled cap, Dhoni was trying hard to rewind his mind to understand how the fissures within the side came to be. He was keenly aware of the pain that comes with the transformation of a side, this time from the side who won the 2011 ICC World Cup to the one who would be representing the country in the 2015 World Cup. He knew that there would be enough churns, rejections and approvals, and those left out in the cold would be resentful.

He fondly remembered 4 April 2011 when just two days after India had won the ICC World Cup, the players posed individually holding the glittery ICC Trophy with the majestic Gateway of India as a backdrop and then walked back to the Taj Mahal hotel for a champagne lunch with friends and relatives. He also remembered the brand manager from Pepsi, responsible for signing up sports personalities in India, who walked up to a senior player of the side even as Dhoni waited with his wife Sakshi for a car to take them to a friend’s place: ‘Hope the Blue Billion Express doesn’t halt because the World Cup has been won.’ The player smiled in response. But the manager, who will not be named here, continued talking, recounting similar patterns of cricketing downfalls from the last two decades. The player, who was clearly not in a hurry, listened patiently. As did Dhoni from a discreet distance, as the Pepsi official rattled off a story dating back to the mid-’70s when the Indian hockey team – fresh from a World Cup win in Kuala Lumpur – had a disastrous Olympic campaign the following year. ‘Hope your boys do not take the England and Australia series too lightly,’ quipped the Pepsi official, before walking away into the crowds that had gathered outside the hotel.

Dhoni found the entire conversation very amusing – especially as it took place right after the World Cup win – and recounted every word when he reached his friend’s home. All those present, surprisingly, agreed with what the Pepsi official had said. There were some who, however, said exactly the opposite. What’s the harm if complacency sets in the team after a World Cup victory, they argued? ‘It would be better if you could drop out and also get some of the top players to rest and check out a relatively young team,’ remarked one. Dhoni merely listened to these opposing viewpoints.

But the predicted disaster did happen. Tired after the World Cup and the IPL that followed immediately, the team began to show cracks as it headed for the Caribbean islands right after the England series that followed the 2011 ICC World Cup triumph. The four Test series against England on the latter’s home turf was nothing short of an unmitigated disaster: England completed a 4-0 series victory, not only ousting India from Test cricket summit but also savaging the reputations of many of India’s illustrious players, including that of the legendary Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

Virtually nothing went right for Dhoni and his boys who, along with the BCCI, bore the brunt of the media heat for a packed schedule and total lack of preparation.

During the England series, an ESPN cameraperson saw Dhoni walk away alone into the stands after a post-match press conference at Cardiff. There were a handful of Indian reporters who followed him to the pavilion. The Indian skipper could have easily hastened his stride and vanished into the night because his side had just lost the match and the series 0-3, but Dhoni walked slowly and stopped to speak with the scribes, all this while maintaining his calm.

After all, he had led from the front and his Test series’ tally of 236 runs was the highest across both teams. Both Suresh Raina (198) and Ravi Bopara (197) trailed the Indian skipper who had also done some superlative keeping behind the wickets. It seemed to the ESPN cameraperson that Dhoni wanted to tell the world that he was fully switched on and was capable of facing the biggest challenges. But somehow, the team kept on losing as if there were a malevolent force working against it, over which the captain had no control.

Dhoni was troubled, he realized that his boys were tired, dead tired in fact, and that the board should not have planned a number of tours immediately after the World Cup. But he was not in a position to argue. According to him, and many in the team, post India’s World Cup victory, the BCCI had an ideal chance to silence its critics that it was serious about not just garnering the largest chunk – 70 per cent – of world cricket’s income but also creating a congenial environment for the team to prosper in, especially in the Tests. But that did not happen.

The Indian skipper lost nine players during the course of the two-month England tour, including Zaheer Khan during the first Test at Lord’s and Praveen Kumar just ahead of the last ODI at Cardiff. England was a nightmare for Dhoni. He would ask the team’s trainer every morning about the players’ fitness levels and would be rattled with some bad news or the other. As if Zaheer’s and Praveen’s injuries were not enough, the team got another jolt when Munaf Patel fell during the course of a game, and Dhoni’s pool of seamers further dwindled.

The Indian skipper got replacements which included Ravindra Jadeja, Parthiv Patel, and Ajinkya Rahane – the last two combining well at the top order to offset Tendulkar’s absence. Raina sparkled throughout, so did level-headed Jadeja and Kohli. Even the veteran Dravid, who fell thrice to Swann, played a great innings at Cardiff, his last ODI innings. But Dhoni knew it was too much to expect one department (batting) to completely shoulder the entire team’s responsibility.

The World Cup winners returned home a shattered lot.

Not surprisingly, in India the fans were hopping mad, and the media was scathing. The Times of India coined an interesting acronym for the world’s richest cricket board, calling it ‘Bombastic, Callous, Chaotic and Incorrigible’ (BCCI).

Former cricketers – who never fail to seize an opportunity to criticize the board – also joined the band of critics. ‘The BCCI should have actually given new coach Duncan Fletcher a side that was fighting fit to take on a buoyant and in-form England. But that did not happen and all they did was to push key players to go through the IPL barely six days after a World Cup, which is not just physically, but emotionally draining as well,’ said former cricketer Sanjay Manjrekar. To him, it seemed the BCCI was a board flush with cash and bereft of control and solely responsible for India’s shameless England Bummer. The worst criticism came from Mid-Day Mumbai which mourned the whitewash with a mock obituary that read: ‘R.I.P. Indian Cricket. In affectionate remembrance of Indian Cricket, which died at the Oval on 22nd August 2011. Deeply lamented by a large circle of 1.2 billion friends and acquaintances. N.B. – The body will be cremated and the ashes remain at the Oval. Forever.’

Dhoni was tired of the flak but had no answer to give. It was time to prepare for the Test and ODI series Down Under. And there were enough indications that the former World Cup champions – fresh and recharged – were waiting to avenge their World Cup defeat at the hands of the visitors.

Perhaps the cricketers, having already lost the Australia Test series 0-3, were thinking of life back home, more importantly, the auction for the fifth edition of the Indian Premier League, scheduled in Bengaluru on 4 February 2012. There were reports in the media about how the cricketers were making queries about their rates and bids to be placed by the IPL team owners. In a country that is considered home to the T20 cash, IPL earnings were critical for top players even since the cash-rich league had started in 2008.

In 2011, Dhoni and Sachin Tendulkar had earned 9 crore each from playing the fourth edition of IPL for Chennai Super Kings and Mumbai Indians respectively, while Gautam Gambhir, who had captained Kolkata Knight Riders, earned 11 crore. This was almost ten times the amount they would have earned from other Tests, ODI and T20 tournaments combined. Top players in grade A get an annual retainer of 1 crore and earn 700,000 per Test, 400,000 per ODI and 200,000 per T20 match. In 2011, some of the top Indian cricketers, played 15 Tests and 40 ODIs on average, earnings an estimated 1.6 crore each. To many in India, it seemed the choice for the players – if they were playing only for money – was pretty clear.

‘Even the selectors know that the players want to earn maximum in as short a time period as possible. No one is worried about Test losses,’ says two-time Indian coach Anshuman Gaekwad. According to former Indian pace bowler Manoj Prabhakar, ‘Everyone wants a slice of IPL. Success in IPL brings loads of money, success in Test matches only gets you the contract money and match fee.’

They were right in many ways. Ever since the IPL had started, the indifference of the Indian cricketers towards Test matches had become apparent. Though cricketers have repeatedly refused to engage in the IPL club versus country debate, the case of Gambhir during the last England series was an eye opener. Gambhir, who sustained a shoulder injury during the World Cup, went on to hide his injury and play all 15 matches in IPL4 where he was the costliest purchase by Kolkata Knight Riders at 11 crore. The southpaw then cited his shoulder injury to drop out of the West Indies tour where he was to captain the ODI side. He also had to eventually depart England after just two Tests when the injury was aggravated.

Dhoni was also at the centre of this debate. He had earlier stoked the fire by stating that T20 was the future of cricket, leaving most to wonder whether Indians were at all keen to play the larger version of the game.

The man, who had scripted India’s success at the inaugural T20 World Cup in 2007 and ICC World Cup in 2011 to help India become the No. 1 Test team in the world, looked totally isolated in the team he had once led so valiantly. Troubled by eight successive defeats in Tests (India lost 0-4 in England in 2011 immediately after the World Cup win), disconnected senior players – the ‘creaking gladiators’ who refuse to retire – and ignored by selectors who didn’t heed his advice, Dhoni went from Captain Cool to being a clichéd one. It was time for Dhoni to introspect. The problem lay as much within him as it did with other players and the systems within which they operated.

Before leaving for Australia, Dhoni accompanied by family and a few friends, had visited the Deori Mata temple to pray for the team’s success. However, it seemed that this time his prayers would go unanswered. Nearly 40 days later, when Australia pulverised India by an innings and 37 runs to complete the whitewash in Perth, Dhoni retreated into deep silence and did not speak to anyone for almost half an hour. Dhoni was reluctant to lead the team to the ground for the prize distribution ceremony and was eventually persuaded by coach Duncan Fletcher to stop sulking and attend the prize distribution ceremony.

After the fourth Test loss in Adelaide that followed the Perth whitewash, it seemed he had thrown in the towel, ‘I need to blame myself. I’m the leader of the side, the main culprit.’ Earlier in the year Dhoni had said that he may retire from Test cricket if he wanted to play in the 2015 ICC World Cup.

In private conversations with friends, Dhoni repeatedly expressed his frustration with the selectors led by former Indian skipper Krishnamachari Srikkanth. Despite being close to Srinivasan, the skipper was unable to convince selectors of a change. ‘I have often told him he should voice his concerns, but I doubt that he will talk,’ says Arun Pandey. ‘I wonder whether he can put things across so bluntly. No one speaks his mind in the Indian cricket team,’ argues Santosh Lal, longtime friend and member of the Jharkhand Ranji team.

Frustrated with this culture of silence, Dhoni started dropping broad hints. On the first day of the first Test against England in August-September 2011, he un-strapped the wicketkeeping pads and started bowling after Zaheer Khan strained a hamstring. Khan’s injury had left India with just three specialist bowlers for the rest of the match. ‘It was risky to have an injury-prone Zaheer in a team that has only four specialist bowlers,’ said former Indian captain Kapil Dev. ‘Why can’t he speak to the selectors?’

Well one couldn’t talk to the selectors, primarily because they wouldn’t listen. Consider the England fiasco. Despite Dhoni’s repeated warnings not to include injury-prone cricketers in the squad for almost a year, the selectors included Zaheer, Yuvraj Singh, Gambhir, Sehwag, and Harbhajan Singh – each of whom was declared fit when their name was included in the list. However, trouble started almost immediately after the tour began.

Zaheer was the first to go after the hamstring injury, followed by Gambhir who played just two Tests and left nursing his old shoulder injury. Sehwag, who batted with cotton buds in his ears, was eventually diagnosed with sensori-neural hearing loss. More exits followed – that of Yuvraj with a fractured thumb and Harbhajan with a hamstring injury. Suddenly, it seemed that Test cricket was certainly not important for Dhoni and rest of the Indian cricketers.

The Indian team for the four-Test series Down Under was chosen in Mumbai on 26 November 2011. Dhoni tried hard to push for some of his choices to be included, but his efforts came a cropper. The five selectors – Mohinder Amarnath, Raja Venkat, Narendra Hirwani, Surendra Bhave and chief selector Srikkanth – were reluctant to remove veteran players V.V.S. Laxman and Rahul Dravid from the side. Meanwhile, Sachin Tendulkar who was expected to score his 100th century by all selectors was an automatic choice. Dhoni asked for Tamil Nadu batsman Abhinav Mukund as reserve opener, and Harbhajan, known for his on-field energy against the Aussies as reserve spinner, but both requests were turned down as was his demand for a vote in the selection process. The captain felt let down.

Commentator and former Australian skipper Ian Chappell felt that Dhoni was battling a larger issue by asking for a limited say in selecting the team he was leading: ‘He hasn’t lost it all but he is not the Dhoni I once admired for his guts. He took some very bold decisions that shook up Indian cricket. He was a game-changer. Now, he is struggling to rediscover his Midas touch.

His bold moves were replaced by tentative experimentation. Dhoni went with an all-pace attack in Perth, dropping off-spinner R. Ashwin to accommodate debutant pace bowler Vinay Kumar who was blasted all over the ground. This, in turn, triggered the one-match ban for Dhoni after India bowled two overs short. A frontline spinner, if included in the side, could have saved the day for the team. Much of the blame, along with Dhoni, was to be shared by the new bowling coach, South African Eric Simons.

Head coach Fletcher, who came in after Gary Kirsten’s successful three-year stint, also did not help the Indian skipper. Fletcher’s way of dealing with low morale is stoic silence. Paddy Upton, the team’s motivational coach too had left with Kirsten and though Johannesburg-based Mike Horn was keen to join the side, Dhoni felt a full-time addition was unnecessary. The Indian fielding was dodgy at best but no one questioned the role of fitness trainer Ramji Srinivasan. The team skipped practice as many as four times during the Test series. Pictures of them relaxing on the beachfront in Melbourne instead of sweating it out in training solidified the sense of drift away from the game.

Eight consecutive Test defeats also affected the television rating points (TRPs). The daily ratings for the first three Tests between India and Australia were 0.89, 0.7 and 0.6 trp respectively, compared to the England one-day international series in India in October 2011 which stood at nearly 2.

Experts following Team India in Australia were unanimous that there was hardly any camaraderie on the field, at the nets, or in the hotel. The Indians moved like a disjointed lot, prompting Australian paper the Courier-Mail to remark that the Indian dressing room is fragmented with lots of ‘old players with loads of star value in India’. ‘He hardly spoke with us. I often would walk into the nets to help Australian bowlers and – unlike earlier – Dhoni turned his face away. He was extremely reluctant to talk,’ ESPN commentator Wasim Akram told reporters.

Some openly aligned with Sehwag, thinking that he will soon be made skipper of the Test side. There had been several rumours to this effect, but Dhoni made no effort to tell the BCCI president that he was troubled by such news. His attitude during defeats had also been distant. Once known for his flashy parties, bike runs with cricketing friends and morale boosting SMSs to players in distress, he remained confined to his hotel room with wife Sakshi during the Australia tour.

Dhoni realized that if such dismal performance persists, cricketers – some of whom command a price of up to 6-7 crore per annum for a brand – would soon lose their market. Known for his rare ability to treat triumph and disaster in the same vein, Dhoni took the blame and the responsibility upon himself.

The Indian skipper, despite suffering his seventh consecutive defeat at Perth and failing again with the bat, was remarkably even-tempered and took responsibility, without being defensive under pressure. ‘I am the leader of the side; I am the main culprit.’

He made it clear that changes were the need of the hour to charge the World Cup champions. Asked if he had considered a phase-out of the senior batsmen, Dhoni said, ‘I have not sat and thought over it. It’s something everybody needs to be a part of – the players and the BCCI. It will be a process rather than just an event. We will carefully decide what needs to be done in the best interests of the country.’ He added, ‘I think there is a bit more emphasis right now (from outside) about getting rid of the seniors, but as I said, it will be a very careful decision. Because of what they have done for the country and the amount of experience they can share with the youngsters,’ he told reporters at a presser.

He went on to say, ‘You can’t have all the seniors missing out all of a sudden and all the juniors coming in. We will have to thoughtfully decide the best option. Give a bit of exposure to youngsters coming in, and at the same time have a fair mix of experienced guys and youngsters.

‘Once they transfer that experience, the job of the youngsters will become slightly easy. You don’t have to play 100 games to be experienced. If you share whatever questions you have with these experienced guys, it really helps you gain the knowledge faster.’

Even when he was grilled repeatedly, he stood his ground. On being questioned if asking icons to leave demanded courage, he said, ‘It’s not about courage. It’s about taking the right decision. For example, people went after Virat (Kohli) to be dropped and he batted really well. You have to give that span of time. Especially when you know somebody is really talented, you have to give that extra time to that particular batsman to keep going on. That’s how great cricketers are made.’

Dhoni suggested that the process of bringing in change would begin after the fourth Test. ‘Maybe the end of the series will be the right time. We also have to see what the seniors’ thoughts are.’

Asked about reports from India, that quoted BCCI sources saying that V.V.S. Laxman would retire after the end of the ongoing Test series, Dhoni replied, ‘As of now, there is nothing that I know of officially. I won’t like to answer something where there is a big “if” and big “but”. I don’t know where this came from. Unless Laxman tells me, I don’t know whether it’s happening or not happening. I really don’t have to think about it.’

The news of the rift also troubled Srinivasan. In private conversations, the board president compared Dhoni’s situation to that of Dravid, who suddenly became an outcast after India’s disastrous World Cup tour of the Caribbean in 2007. ‘I have heard of some ego issues in the dressing room. I think the media is more worried than the two players. These two (Dhoni and Sehwag) are competent enough to iron out their differences, if any,’ said Srinivasan.

Cricket cognoscenti know Dhoni’s no-Test agenda has Srinivasan’s complete backing. The BCCI president, in fact, had told the South African cricket board in 2010 that it made sense for India to play more ODIs because of the revenue model. According to former Indian cricketer Bishan Singh Bedi, ‘It suits the board, it suits everyone in India to back the ODI and T20 agenda because there’s where the money lies. Test cricket has very few backers. Even sports channels are reluctant to show Tests. Dhoni’s agenda has no surprises, it’s crystal clear. He wants to play the short version. The money’s there, so is his heart. And whatever he does, he has Srinivasan’s backing.’

Bedi should know. Early in 2013, when spot-fixing charges enveloped the IPL and three cricketers of Rajasthan Royals were arrested and sent to Delhi’s Tihar Jail, the Indian cricket captain did not utter a word.

His silence continued even when Srinivasan’s son-in-law Gurunath Meyippan – the owner of Chennai Super Kings – was arrested by Mumbai Police and interrogated for links with bookies. He did not comment even when the newspapers reported how an event management company in which he was a partner was managing players from the national selection.

‘This is his arrogance because he knows he has the support of the man who rules Indian cricket,’ quipped Amarnath, now holed up in his home in Goa.

Privately, the Indian cricket captain told some of his confidants that he has lost total faith in the country’s media, especially the cricket writers and news channels.

‘The only way to silence them is by winning the game,’ he told a select gathering in the Indian capital days before the team left for England for the Champions Trophy in June 2013.

Was he confident of success in England? Did he know he was leading a crackerjack team that would improve with every match? Did he meet the soothsayers? No one had an answer.

In England, Dhoni remained defiant with the Indian media. He knew Srinivasan was not exactly in charge – post the spot-fixing mess that had rattled the world’s richest cricket board – but it did not impact the Indian skipper. At the mandatory pressers, he gave blunt answers and, at times, exhorted the media to ‘write whatever they could’. At times, he simply walked off, sometimes he sent in a team mate to answer questions. It seemed to many in England that Dhoni was waiting to answer his critics.

Perhaps Dhoni knew – in the core of his heart – that all brouhaha would stop if his boys could win the Champions Trophy in rain-plagued England. And then, he would be able to retain the selectors’ interest in him and with players he wants. Not players like Gambhir, Sehwag, Zaheer, and Harbhajan whom he weeded out purely on the basis of performance, both at home and abroad. But strangely, by that same yardstick, Dhoni should have been out of the side long ago. But he had Srinivasan on his side. Not just cricket, Dhoni’s appointment as a vice-president of the Chennai-based India Cements, a company owned by the BCCI president, showed his growing clout with the man who continues to call the shots despite stepping down from the top mantle of BCCI. But Srinivasan eventually returned and those close to him heaved a sigh of relief. The list included the Indian cricket captain.

Success came on field as well. The Champions Trophy has been won in 2013. Dhoni is back home in Ranchi. His single focus now is the 2015 ICC World Cup in Australia and this time, he has a team that swears by him. He has to guarantee success throughout 2014. If that happens, eyeballs and revenues will grow for the Men in Blue, the world’s richest cricket board will be back on track, and no one will complain. About the Author

A senior journalist, Shantanu Guha Ray has spent nearly three decades in journalism, having worked with some top publications and television channels. In 2011, he scooped the Coal Scam, India’s biggest scandal, while working for India Today. He briefly flirted with sports in ESPN Star Sports, the world’s biggest sports channel, but followed players than their sports. Currently with the Vienna-based Central European News, he lives in New Delhi with his daughter, wife and three dogs.

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