The Raj I knew

The death of Raj Singh Dungarpur symbolises the passing away of a cricketing era that was conspicuous for its grace and dignity.

The Raj I knew

The death of Raj Singh Dungarpur symbolises the passing away of a cricketing era that was conspicuous for its grace and dignity.

Humble to a fault, Raj was the quintessential egalitarian: Nationalist and secularist, for whom the game of cricket was the destroyer of barriers and builder of bridges between people all over the world.

In all modesty, I can claim the privilege of having had Raj Singh Dungarpur as a close and trusted friend ever since I started SPORTSWEEK magazine in 1968, at the inaugural function of which he was a distinguished guest.

And, having travelled with him to many corners of the cricketing world (he managed four Indian teams abroad), I can authenticate the respect that players, administrators, journalists and fans, without exception, had for him.

tragic.

Accident of birth apart, Raj Singh Dungarpur, the youngest scion of Maharawal Lakshman Singhji of Dungarpur, was truly a prince in these egalitarian times, not due to his blue blood but because of his nobility of head and heart.

Although impressively articulate, Raj was never disputatious. Contrary to popular belief, he was a good listener.
A compassionate human being, he always gave all those who approached him a courteous and patient hearing.
He always had a kind word and good wishes for whoever approached him for help, irrespective of the person's station in life.

Raj Singh's treatment of his household staff and subordinates at the CCI, his second home, was exemplary.
On a personal note, Raj Singh and I, along with Gautam Thakkar, Maharashtra's former Indian junior badminton champion and ex Bombay Gymkhana president, often had breakfast together at the CCI (when Raj was a young, inveterate foodie with a voracious appetite), where we heard friend Raj wax eloquent about the romance and spirit of cricket.

An incorrigible idealist and, basically, nau00efve regarding the rapidly evolving ethos of the game, Raj never quite understood that people could actually be involved in betting and match-fixing in the gentleman's game we all love.

Despite the difference in our ages, Dungarpur insisted I address him as "Raj" rather than "Rajbhai", as he was affectionately and respectfully called. ("What's this 'Rajbhai' all about, Khalid? A simple 'Raj' is good enough," he often said.).

Despite the scathing criticism I unleashed at Raj on many occasions during his tenure as member and chairman of the national selection committee of the BCCI and as its president, I often felt aggrieved over denial of my right to criticise him merely because we were friends or adversaries!

And when he had a greatly hyped spat with Sunil Gavaskar over cricketing matters, Raj promptly extended his hand of friendship, at my suggestion at a function at the Bombay Gymkhana, "to kiss and make up", an expressionu00a0 which Dungarpur found uproariously funny.

(It must be recorded that, in turn, Gavaskar was among the first to visit Raj Singh at his niece's Worli residence after the latter had been released from the Bombay Hospital recently after a prolonged stay).

If ever there was a man born who breathed cricket, it was Raj Singh Dungarpur, a veritable cricket encyclopedia for whom the game was lifeblood and a magnificent obsession.

Raj Singh's pioneering contribution to Indian cricket, especially the setting up of the National Cricket Academy in Bangalore, and the induction of foreign coaches and trained athletics' support staff for the national team, will go down in the annals of Indian cricket.

Dungarpur will also be remembered for the fast tracking into the Test side, of a then 16-year old Sachin Tendulkar, the induction of Anil Kumble in the team and appointment, howsoever controversial at the time, of Mohammed Azharuddin as Test captain.

Raj remained a treasure trove of cricketing incidents, anecdotes and bon mots despite his failing health characterized by Alzheimer's and diabetes.

He often held court at the Cricket Club of India (CCI), where he would regale his large circle of friends, admirers and cricket aficionados at the durbars (sammelans!!) on the world-renowned lawns of the Brabourne Stadium.

Unfortunately, like many members of the erstwhile Indian princely clan, who were notorious for their kacche kaan (gullibility), an essentially nau00efve Raj often led his heart rule his head on the advice of his fawning courtiers, who had their personal agendas.

It may be said that an unsuspecting Raj Singh Dungarpur was at all times, a man of unfailing probity, principled convictions and, therefore, easy meat in the whirlpool that is Indian cricket.

The media, too, could always count on him for juicy copy because of his frank, fearless and, oftentimes, controversial views.

To Raj Singh Dungarpur must go major credit for almost single-handedly transforming the CCI from a tired, ageing monolith into a state-of-the-art sporting institution, comparable with the best in the world.

And it must be remembered that it was Dungarpur who, first, brought international cricket back to the Brabourne in the form of the Champions Trophy in 2006.

Unfortunately, for reasons best known to them, some present and former CCI executive members, as also some erstwhile executive committee members, have thought it fit, in an unexplained draconian act of blatant injustice and high-handedness to suspend from their club the member who had instutionalised it with tender and loving care.

Soon after being elected president and brought to the club in a cavalcade in an automatic chariot in 2006, Raj Singh was a broken man. He never quite regained his spirit.u00a0

The CCI, as also the BCCI, would do well to perpetuate his memory in befitting manner.

To quote Shakespeare from Julius Caesar: "His life was gentle, and the elementsSo mixed in him that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the worldu00a0 'This was a man!'"

May Raj Singh Dungarpur's soul rest in peace.

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