“An enigma wrapped in a mystery” sums up Bishan Singh Bedi – the man, the cricketer and his persona. The legacy of the famous spinner is vast; the spectrum of his personality and cricketing feats would need a few kilobytes of computer space to explain.
Bish or skip – that is how I fondly addressed him – was a larger-than-life character; outspoken, hilarious, honest, he said things which would create a controversy. “Compromise” – he would often berate it as a weak word!
It was in 1972 that I first met Bish. He had already ‘spun’ India to victory in England under Ajit Wadekar and was a big name. I had made my debut for Delhi a year earlier in 1971. Gulshan Rai Kashyap – a former Delhi Ranji Trophy player who was the manager of the Delhi Ranji side and was also the manager of North Zone universities for the Vizzy Trophy, where I had a successful run in 1971 – literally held my hand and took me to meet Bish. There started a long friendship.
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— ANGAD BEDI (@Imangadbedi) October 25, 2023
In Indian cricket circles, the great spinner was always referred to as Paaji – the Punjabi word for elder brother – while internationally he was known as “Bishan” or just “Bedi”. For me, his junior by some five years, he was always ‘Bish” – and he never minded it or made an issue of me not referring to him as Paaji.
Over the last century, Indian cricket has seen many great personalities adorn the game, famous names stretching from Ranjitsinhji, Duleepsinhji, Tiger Pataudi, Kapil Dev, Sachin Tendulkar, M.S. Dhoni and Virat Kohli. Yet, Bish was in a class of his own. His garrulous laugh, warm hug, colourful turbans, patkas, and no-nonsense attitude typified him both on and off the field. A man of strong faith and belief, Bish often went out of his way to make friends.
Cricket, to Bish, was not just a game of bat and ball. For him, the old adage, “The battle of Waterloo was won on the fields of Eton and Harrow” was a yardstick to judge one’s actions and life. He was a strong-willed character and had seen the ups and downs of life at close quarters. What stood out over the years were his commitment, dedication, honesty and uprightness. These days, all such traits are not usually found in one individual.
Bish was born in Amritsar and completed his education there. He initially joined Khalsa College for his graduation but shifted a year later to Hindu College in the same city. It was at the latter that he met a cricket coach of great calibre, Gyan Prakash. Bish and Gyan developed a close relationship. The mentor found a dedicated pupil as Gyan Prakash drilled many lessons and taught the ways of the world to his pupil, besides the nuances of spin, the dip in flight, the craft of making the ball ‘talk’ and of course the balance. Bish initially wanted to be a fast bowler but was dissuaded by Gurpal Singh, a first-class cricketer, and later by Gyan Prakash – and the spinner was born.
Many years later, Bish narrated an incident from his early days at home in Amritsar which showed his strong-headed nature. His father had an argument with the young Bish which became a bit heated. Bish recollected, “I was so upset that I did not speak to him for the next six years.”
Often words like ‘obdurate’, ‘dictatorial’ and ‘stubborn’ were used to describe Bish. But even his detractors acknowledge that he had a warm heart, a spontaneous bellow and loud laughter. Yes, he would stand up for his rights always, often calling a spade a bloody shovel. If only his early mentors had tutored him on the virtues of diplomacy, where would that have taken him? As former England captain Mike Brearley stressed, “Bishan was no diplomat. He’s been a man unafraid to speak his mind even if it bordered on the intemperate.”
Also Read: Bishan Singh Bedi Bowled to Deceive but, Frank and Big-Hearted, Was the Least Deceptive of Men
On the cricketing front, Bish was appointed as captain of the Delhi Ranji team in 1973. The team was struggling and the old warhorses were a spent force. Many years after he retired, Bish recollected, “I was not too enamoured by the prospects of leading the team, and in fact declined the offer.” The Delhi state cricket association was the ‘fiefdom’ of a strong-willed administrator, and Bish felt the gentleman and he would end up in arguments and there would be interference at all levels.
Bish, was a star by that time. He laid down his terms before accepting the responsibility of captaining the Delhi Ranji team – he would do so only if he was given a free hand and total control. Thus began a long journey during which Bish would ensure that players from Delhi and North Zone, till then the whipping boys of Indian Cricket, climbed to the top and won every trophy in Indian cricket. Bish coached the Punjab side to their maiden Ranji Trophy title in 1993.
Bish was the best left-arm bowler in India and there was no one close to him. His action was described as poetry in motion, and Jim Laker famously described his idea of euphoria as watching a match at Lord’s with Ray Lindwall bowling from one end and Bishan Bedi from the other! There have been many equally colourful analogies. As a bowler, Bish was not afraid of batsmen hitting him for boundaries. When he applauded a six, often one wondered if it was genuine or if the great Sardar was playing on the batsman’s mind. Probably both. Bish enjoyed good cricket, even from the opposition. Maybe the applause was to incite the batsman to repeat the stroke – for that gave him an opportunity to get his wicket. Clever!
I frequently prodded him for details of his cricketing battles with players like the Chappell brothers – Ian and Greg; Barry Richards and Geoff Boycott. It was fascinating to hear him reply. As Greg Chappell mentioned, “Bishan was a fierce competitor on the field and a thorough gentleman off it. My abiding memories are of a striking man in a blue turban, bowling with the most fluid action that I have ever witnessed and that he got me out regularly.” Bish did not rely on extravagant spin. His full-bodied action allowed him to drift the ball and modify the pace subtly so that no two balls were the same. He also extracted considerable bounce with his high action and the overspin which he conjured with his magical fingers.
“He was not an elegant mover with the bat, or in the field. In both departments he was clumsy. Like Colin Cowdrey, among batsmen, Bedi was one of those athletes whose athleticism was expressed almost exclusively in what he did best. A few easy steps, perfectly balanced, and he moved smoothly into the delivery stride. There was no sense of striving, no hiccups, just an easy flow. He bowled at the slower end of the spin bowler’s range, though not dead slow,” Mike Brearley aptly described him. Brearley was enthralled by Bish’s guile and dexterity.
Tiger Pataudi mentioned to me that Bish was the only one who took coaching seriously and shared his love for the game with young talent.
Bedi was a generous man. He had a rare blood group and once donated blood in Karachi in response to a newspaper appeal. Benazir Bhutto sent him two carpets and a tea set, while shopkeepers invited Bedi to help himself. This humanity was visible to all his teammates, as he would invite them over after a day’s play to enjoy a drink and a meal. He gave away expensive cricket gear to young cricketers. Challenge yourself to play better, he would tell them.
Bish’s love-hate relationship with cricket officialdom is well documented. Bish turned down so many ‘offers’. Kerry Packer, the Australian who started the rebel World Series Cricket in 1977 made three attempts to lure him. Bish declined. BCCI asked Bish to join the IPL Governing Council and again the Sardar turned it down. The Supreme Court sought his views on allowing persons beyond the age of 70 to serve as administrators, selectors and Bish, himself nearing 70, said such officials and cricketers would be better off sitting at home and guiding the next generation in administering the game. Each of the offers declined by Bish would have been hugely rewarding monetarily, but Bish was clear that the game needed to be better piloted. True wealth is a character that no one can buy.
Or probably he had learnt the art of being content as a child, when his mother used to take him to the Gurdwara to hear the Gurbani – recited at the Gurdwara from the Sikh Scripture Guru Granth Sahib.
B.S. Chandrasekhar, a member of the fabled Indian spin quartet, aptly stated, “Bish loved to quote Sir Don Bradman, who when asked in a television interview what he would like to be remembered for had replied: integrity.” That is something Bishan will always be remembered for too.
The last couple of years of Bish’s life were extremely painful, trying and indeed challenging. For an independent, physically active sportsman like Bish to be struck by ill-health was a huge challenge. When I met him in 2021, just before this period began, Bish had cooked a wonderful lunch. It was so exciting to swap tales and jokes as we savoured biryani, kebabs and a beer. Little did we know that in a few days, Bish would go under the knife. It laid him low but his fighting spirit, his never-say-die attitude, and the warmth and love of his family kept him in good cheer. Even at his lowest, he did not give up easily. He fondly mentioned that he enjoyed playing cricket with his granddaughter and praised her ability. A true family man, Bish was rightly proud of his son, Angad, and his acting career in Bollywood. He named the grandchildren and was always in a cheerful mood when he spoke about them.
The Sardar of Spin, a book edited by me, was released in New Delhi on September 2021 to coincide with the 75th birthday celebrations of the master spinner. Unable, due to a stroke, to speak on the occasion, he hugged me and had tears in his eyes. It was sad to see the Sardar of slow bowling weeping, but such are the undulations of life!
Venkat Sundaram is a former captain of the Delhi and North Zone cricket teams. He edited a book on Bedi titled The Sardar of Spin. More recently he edited Indian Cricket Then and Now.