One of India’s greatest cricketers Bishan Singh Bedi (77) breathed his last on Monday, October 23. The following is an excerpt from Mid-Wicket Tales, a book by S. Giridhar and V. J. Raghunath published in 2014, and returning in a revised and expanded edition with Speaking Tiger. The particular chapter in the book – Bishan Singh Bedi: Of Large Hearts and Large Stories – presents the warmed-hearted personality of Bedi.
Some months after Mid-wicket Tales had been published, Gideon Haigh, the cricket historian from Australia, wrote a generous review. He also sent it to his good friend in Delhi, the legendary cricketer, Bishan Singh Bedi. Gideon asked me to send Bedi a copy, which I (Giridhar) did with alacrity. Two days later, my phone rang. It was Bedi, exuberant and in his characteristic drawl, telling me he loved the book. I asked him, have you read it already? To which he replied he had only read a few chapters but liked what he had read so much that he had to immediately compliment us. I introduced him to Raghunath over email. Raghu was visiting his daughter in Delhi at that time and even before one could whip the bails off to a Bedi delivery, Raghu was having dinner at Bedi’s farmhouse!
When Raghu met Bedi that first time, we had just begun work on our second book, From Mumbai to Durban, which would narrate the history of Indian Test cricket through the stories of India’s greatest Test matches. As part of our research at that time, we were reaching out to cricketers and journalists to get their first-hand views, anecdotes and interesting snippets that would embellish the narration. That evening with Bedi was the first of our meetings with him. We did not have to persuade him because he had already made up his mind to help us. If you have browsed through the book, you will realise how much the great left-arm spinner contributed to it. He simply gave. I don’t think he even remembers how much he told us.
In November 2015, Chennai was devastated by floods, rendering many people homeless. Lives were lost, houses ravaged. Bedi, living in Delhi, was getting desperately worried about his friends in Chennai. Not getting through to these people in Chennai, he called me to ask if his cricketer friends – W. V. Raman, Srikkanth, and a few others – and his new friend, Raghu, were safe. I had to admit that I did not know about the cricketers but assured him that Raghu was safe. Bedi was distraught and rang off to check with some other friends. That’s how Bedi is wired, genuinely concerned about his people.
Under happier circumstances some months later, I got a call one evening at 9 p.m. ‘Bishan here. I am in your town, at the Leela. Want to come over for dinner?’ Since I live very close to The Leela, I was ringing his doorbell within minutes. Bedi welcomed me with a hug. And then mischievously he pointed me towards the shadowy corner of the room. Leaning against the wall was Sunil Joshi, former India left-arm spinner and in some ways, Bedi’s protégé. I told Bedi that like a good South Indian, I had finished dinner much before his call came. So he said, ‘Ok have a beer.’ Then rubbing his hands and leaning in his luxurious chair he said, ‘When Sunil dropped in to see me, I thought I will call you over so that you can press him for some stories too.’ Sunil of course is a lovely raconteur with an impish sense of humor.
We set up a meeting for a later day where he shared some lovely stories, which you will also find in the book. That evening at The Leela, Bedi was in form. He told of his love for players like Pataudi and Jaisimha; of the spirit in which sport must be played. He narrated stories from the Indian tours to the West Indies and Pakistan; told us about a crazy helicopter ride in Guyana; and about a nervous Jaisimha always smoking like a chimney before his turn to bat. Then, with loud guffaws, he told us wicked stories about Lala Amarnath and his endless bragging. In the middle of all that he also chided me (and Raghunath in his absence) of not being forthright and critical enough about dubious bowling actions in our earlier book. He said we were being unnecessarily politically correct while talking of Muralitharan in our chapter on great off-spinners. Time flew as I soaked in the stories, and it was well past midnight when I reached home.
As the manuscript of our book From Mumbai to Durban reached its final stages, I emailed Bedi to reconfirm some of the stories and facts that he had told us. Raghu and I wanted to be sure we would not be misquoting him. One of those really tall tales was about Lala Amarnath’s boast of doing 10,000 skips with the skipping rope in 30 minutes. We feared we might not have got the number right. Bishan is not so prompt on email and it was easier to speak to him over phone. As we repeated our query, he interjected to say, ‘Nah, it’s 30,000 that Lala claimed not 10,000 skips.’ So what we thought was an already tall tale only became taller when we went back to Bedi to reconfirm.
That’s the fun of being acquainted with Bedi. We are pretty sure he is the same with almost everyone, friendly within minutes of shaking hands. That heart, it is large, it is generous, it overflows.