A Farewell to Art. Review on V V S Laxman

It was all on expected lines. No front-page clamour about ‘injustice’, no effigy burning of BCCI executives, no recommendation of Bharat Ratna – the retirement of VVS Laxman was welcomed by most with a sense of inevitability, as if something long overdue. He was no God or Wall, just a simple, restrained individual whom you could easily overlook in a crowded mall. No financial stake rode on his shoulders; he was not even fit to be considered as a member of some obscure T20 team; his smile sold no toothpastes. VVS Laxman decided to hang boots as quietly as you would always expect him to – only there was some touch of style and class in even that. And did I mention timing?

Ah! So the words have at last come out – style, class and timing! And, lest we forget, Beauty. With VVS, we saw the end of perhaps the last representative of bygone era of cricket where numbers were not the be end of everything – in terms of runs or money – more important were the manner in which they were earned. That era where a village schoolmaster still commanded higher respect than an investment banker. Or a poet or a painter than businessman. But the time has changed. These are the days of murky deals and high flying lifestyles. Money today justifies everything.

Back to cricket. It all started in a fiery Adelaide pitch against the best bowling attack in business. An unknown young lad from Hyderabad played a gem of an innings standing tall amongst the ruins created out of fall of titans – Sachin et al. But then there was lull. It was one of those things, we lamented, which happens time to time. Then Eden Garden s happened. The Aussie juggernaut was brought to a grinding halt as the world watched in wonder an innings such quality which happens perhaps once in a generation. Saurav’s aggression, Sachin’s brilliance, Dravid’s dependability notwithstanding, that innings remained the defining turning point which scripted the renaissance of Indian cricket. Had Dhoni watched that innings? If he had and still lacked respect for the player – well then his cricketing brain is suspect(world cup win not withstanding).

That was followed by a few more artistic masterpieces spread at varied locations – Durban, SCG, Port of Spain, Colombo, Mohali and some more at Eden. When the crowd has gone quiet, when the defeat looks eminent, when the bowlers charge in with menacing speed, expect VVS to put his head down and script an epic turn around. With that also expect him to play some of the strokes that defy description and common logic. They seem to be telling the bowlers, ‘You bowl in whatever area you like to bowl, I would decide where to hit.’ The connoisseurs of the game compared his shots with poetry – I would not know as I am uninitiated to poetry. But there was a certain jubilation of spirit when VVS was in full flow which was quite beyond the runs on scoreboard or concerns of victory or defeat. What it was is difficult to put in words and I will not try. Only it is suffice to say that any day I will prefer to watch a century by Laxman over that of Sachin or Dravid – at least in test matches. Only other player who has invoked similar feeling in the heart as a spectator has been Brian Lara though Laxman was more subtle of the two, Lara more flamboyant. Amongst players of current generation there is Mahela Jayavardhane who shall carry the torch of a dying art for some years. Then. I don’t know!

Goodbye VVS! I hope you realise that to some of the cricket lovers you and your game will remain untainted by the vicissitudes of time. Others who do not understand your brand of cricket should not matter to you. The loss is entirely theirs. May be Sachin and Dravid averages 6 more than you but then you can smile affably and say that those 6 runs you could have easily bridge d by running a little faster. For me I can say with a tinge of regret that with your departure the last motivation of turning on the TV set to watch cricket has gone. But I am fortunate too . I was one of the fortunate one lac odd Kolkatans present in Eden Gardens when your 281 happened. I am sure to bore my grandchildren to death(if I ever have one) with its story.