As one fortunate to have seen him in action, I have fond memories of Tiger Pataudi, the shrewd captain, the swashbuckling batsman and the dashing fieldsman. But on a more personal note, I was lucky to have him as my editor. From 1982 to 1994 I was the Madras correspondent for Sportsworld magazine, which he edited in keeping with the credo “follow the sport with those who have played the game.’’
I interacted with him on a couple of occasions during visits to my head office in Calcutta. I had heard so much about his dry sense of humour that I longed to have first hand knowledge of it. The typical wry Pataudi wit had come through famously in 1961. Asked as to when he thought he could make a comeback following the serious eye injury, Pataudi quipped “when I saw the English bowling.’’ True to his word, he got a hundred in his third Test against Ted Dexter’s visiting team in Madras.
Some two decades later, Pataudi was the expert on Doordarshan for a Test match. Instead of saying “the drinks are on the field,’’ a commentator, in a slip of the tongue, said: “the drunks are on the field.’’ He was writhing with embarrassment only to be assuaged somewhat by Pataudi who came up with “there may be some truth in what you said but you didn’t have to say it.’’
In October 1983, I was in Nagpur to cover the India-Pakistan Test for Sportsworld. After I finished my report, I was asked by my associate editor in Calcutta to go over to the hotel where Pataudi was staying, collect his copy and fax it across.
When I went there, he had still not finished and asked me to wait a while. He was enjoying his Scotch and asked me if I would have some. “No sir, I am on duty,’’ I muttered sheepishly. “Well, come later and join me when you are off duty. I will still be here,’’ he said with a disarming smile and a mischievous glint in the eye. I regret to say I didn’t have the nerve.
In 1989, I was in Calcutta when my associate editor Andy O’Brien told me that we had to go to the station to pick up Pataudi who had just arrived from Bhopal. As he was having difficulty in finding parking space at the over-crowded Howrah station, he asked me to go on ahead to meet Pataudi. I found him standing by himself at the station dressed in a spotless white jubba pyjama with a mojari to match. I introduced myself but to my pleasant surprise he remembered me from our last meeting six years before. It was a pleasant drive from the station to the place he was staying and the conversation seemed natural as if we had known each other for years.
Pataudi’s copies written by his own hand from New Delhi always arrived on time at the Calcutta office. Perhaps he was editor only in name for it was a group of young professionals who ran the magazine. But his copies were crisp, erudite with neat turn of phrase. And whenever he took a stand on any issue it was in forthright fashion. Not surprisingly for he was always a no-nonsense personality.
