‘When you go out to bat, crores will expect you to perform and close to lakh at Eden will cheer you up. The pressure on you is immense and it’s quite thrilling.’ Arun Lal said before the match in a tete-a-tete with a journalist when he was suddenly carted into the Indian team versus the mighty West Indies after being left in the lurch for long as Sunil Gavaskar was dropped. That actually meant he had to prepare himself mentally to face the likes of Courtney Walsh, Winston Davies and Patrick Patterson who spearheaded the Indies attack in 1987 with a modicum of or no match practice at all. Arun Lal did all the homework mentally and physically and went on to score a masterly 93, his highest in Test cricket. The “pressure” he was talking about took out the quintessential best in him. And that is Arun Lal.
Lal ji, as he is popularly called in his close circles, debuted against Pakistan in their hay days. Led by fearsome pace duo of Imran and Safaraz, Pakistan was a nightmare for the batsmen. The sight of stumps being cartwheeled against the vicious indeepers or if they negotiated ( the very word made popular by Arun Lal as a commentator), the next balls inevitably aimed at face or head was enough to usurp sleep at night. So batsmen would come out mentally tumbling all the way from the pavilion next morning. Not Arun Lal. He toughened his stance and stitched out a dogged opening partnership of 105 with Sunil Gavaskar; he himself scored a classy 51.
It was jocularly said before the advent of Sourav Ganguly that Bengal was full of cricket enthusiasts and a very microscopic number of cricket players. That observation had its roots in the fact that it won prestigious national championship way back in late thirties, an aeon ago. After that though the region produced some players of substance who knocked the door of national team with a sound persistence, Bengal remained trophyless decade after decade. That trend was bucked by a dourly Arun Lal who played a stellar role in guiding Bengal out of crisis against fancied Delhi in the final of Ranji trophy in 1989. As two wickets fell back to back at 20, Arun steadied the rocking ship with a characteristic patient gritty 52 not out and formed cluster of partnerships with Ashok Malhotra, Sourav Ganguly and Raja Venkat to post a total of 216/4 against Delhi’s 278. In a rain-marred match Bengal won on the basis of greater runs per wicket. Arun Lal’s valour brought back a much coveted Ranji trophy after fifty years of trophy drought!
It was only expected that cancer he was diagnosed with could not cope up with his indomitable spirit. He trounced the disease and took to coaching his Bengal team when it was badly in need of oxygen. The cancer-beater coach provided the oxygen with that much amount which proved too much for its opponents. Bengal from the brink started pulverizing whoever came its way and reached final. In final Bengal lost but won the hearts for its dream run, courtesy Arun Lal.
Now at 66, Arun Lal wants to start a new innings in his life. He marries his girlfriend after the reported divorce with his first wife; a non-exhibitive love silently making its way to a desired destination. The new husband wife have decided to attend to the ailing wife which Arun has been doing for long.
‘I don’t want to make it like something. It’s entirely my personal affair. I’m happy with my beautiful darling.’ Arun lal said in his usual coyish undertone but affirmative looks at his marriage ceremony. In traditional suits he looks dapper while his “darling” bride ravishing. ‘Honeymoon would be Ranji preparations,’ Lal ji informed the gathering journos. The new bride endorsed with a clear ringing laugh. Personal occasion may take a back seat; but professional commitment and dedication should be given topmost priority. Husband wife are unanimous on it.
Indians, Bengalees specifically, keep their other relation(s) under carpet for the fear of queer reactions they may attract from society. (A Kolkata-based leading clinical psychologist has to exhort people to be their own and to do things on their own without fearing about “Loke Ki Bolbe”: what society will say if they believe what they are doing is morally correct.) So while they are good at carrying on their secret relationships away from public glare in mushrooming so-called hotels or resorts where pussy-footing goes on dominant and honesty lies ambushed, Arun Lal emerges again a valiant trend-bender and a trend-setter alike as what he did on the twenty-two yards of cricket pitch. He claims a relationship in public and gives it its due.
Lal ji does not believe in anything lowly secret if that is profoundly sacred. Like a fearless opening batsman who wields his bat to rule over the unsavoury balls, he leads from the front to proclaim and recognise his love in styles and teaches a lesson to loathsome practices of timid people in society.
Cricket is a gentleman’s game. The tribe of gentleman is increasingly becoming a rarity these days and is facing a possible extinction. Arun Lal, the gentleman cricketer stands up and delivers honestly what he feels he should. Let us see if the society continues to play dirty hide and seek or learns a lesson or two from him in transparency and integrity.
The red sun, that “Arun Lal” comes to be translated to in English, at least gives a hint of a new dawn at a time when the world is hurtling towards a darkening moral degeneration.
After all the sun rises from the east.