Storyline: Among Indian athletes who participated in international competition there may have been none better than field hockey player, Dhanraj Pillay.
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene, the dark unfathomed caver of bear.” – Thomas Gray.
To the humble west of yours, hockey might just be a game played on an unbarred note, but not on a barren land. For us, in this eastern part of the sub-continent, it is an art embodied in artistry when the personnel holding the sticks take to the centre stage; well, to put that ball into the net.
Courtesy: sakaaltimes.com
I am not yawing you from the sport you love altogether. But I, stationed in my lexical cage of bibliophilic intellectualness, would like to introduce to you a man whom I consider as the greatest sportsperson (Hang on! I am not exaggerating) of my nation India (well, not many would agree with this, though), has ever produced … nor will ever produce.
The year was 1996. And the month is July. Georgia’s Atlanta was preparing itself for one of the most globally celebrated events on the planet earth, the Olympics. More than ten thousand miles away, a long-haired man and his team full of exuberance and confidence were preparing themselves to spend life for more than 12 hours of flying and a few hours of waiting at the airports–if only to touch ground in your great nation, America.
One among them was a humble lad who knew nothing but to play hockey and with a dream of standing on the podium, which he and the nation thought and dreamt of. He and his troupe landed and were scheduled to play at Panther Stadium. As it was dawning and dusking in city, a few of the team turned a silent ear to the slogan of the games which read, “Come Celebrate our Dream,” written eruditely by Jack Arogeti. Billy Payne was the one who actually selected it as the slogan for the games.
Courtesy: indiatimes.com
Little do I wonder if my hero, or say, the protagonist of this write-up, ever thought off, nor listened to? If you, dear readers, are still flummoxed about whom am talking about, then it is none but Dhanraj Pillay.
He was then an Indian Hockey player who played most as a forward. I don’t know what ‘forward’ means to you in the west (when the game is played on ice) but when it is played on the orthodox grass it is a responsible role, an advanced one, which demands the attentiveness of the player to his truest potentials.
Before India’s match against Argentina, Dhanraj already had a hat trick at South Asian Federation games earlier and was well-known for his wizardry with the stick. Unfortunately, though, rough weather prevailed and India lost a few important matches that were never scheduled to be lost. In that event, he scored 2 goals in a 4-0 victory over the USA (Sorry, if this hurts you). Matches followed against Spain and Great Britain, to whom we lost. Or as a writer in me would say: “Goals that should have been scored were not, whistles that should have been blown against the opposition’s error weren’t sounded.” The team lost the game, and more importantly, a chance to stand on the podium the nation and he, himself, had been dreaming off. For a fact, we, the Indians have not won a Gold Medal at the Olympics since 1980. Our captain then was Vasudevan Bhaskaran.
Courtesy: trubuneindia.com
They say, “Great edifices are built on solid foundations.” Indeed, yes, this man has one of the most solid foundations ever. Brick by brick, layer by layer, he cemented a foundation that would never wither out till the end of time. I understand adversaries are but a passing cloud, yet one can find in him a man who put pride before fall, who has a meekness rich in immortal highness, who would least be bothered nor perturbed by any piece of arrogance. I once wrote: “Had a player of this stature represented any other nation, like Australia or Germany, they would have struck gold at almost every tournament this man was involved.” I still feel he was undertreated by the Indian hockey federation, and underrated by many. But his unparalleled passion for the game saw him represent India with pride and passion undeterred.
I understand you guys are rich with knowledge in mathematics and statistics. For a matter of fact, my hero represented the nation in 339 International matches; the only player in the history of the games to feature in four Olympics (1992, 1996, 2000, and 2004); four World Cups (1990, 1994, 1998, and 2002); four Champions Trophies (1995, 1996, 2002, and 2003); and four Asian Games (1990, 1994, 1998, and 2002).
Courtesy: tribune.com.pk
If this, to you readers, sounds like an overly boasted eulogy about a flesh and blood from a foreign land, I am sorry, you are mistaken. So, then, what do we learn? If you ask me, I’d say he liked light for the game to be played, but never hogged for the limelight. He was the gentlest of the gentlemen, kindest of the kind-hearted, and above all bloodied and beaten but unbowed. He had arteries that never wheeled under pressure, veins that ran and swam through the nobility of flesh’s genius, and a cartilage that never settled under a summer’s tree even–even if it demanded a peasant of rest. He was not your Walt Whitman or a William Blake, but he was certain poetry with stick and prose in passing the ball to the winger and a wall that hardly broke out–even when the cement in it has crashed down.
Oxford dictionary defines passion as “A thing arousing with great enthusiasm.” If you, on any occasion, ought to find an example in a human being who aptly, if not surely, suffixes the above, then it is Dhanraj Pillay. He as a player with knack, scoffed off the frailty from the opposition and the other players (foes, if you mean).
Why so, then, are many of the modern day’s youth failing to recognize this genius par excellence? His was a journey to the expiation and back. He was a blue-collar player, eager and enthusiastic to work a yard of a few meters extra for its entrenched passion, if only to be fulfilled. The palate of a sports aficionado was hardly jaded, but eminently quenched, when he was on filed and toying the opponents. Watching him was a sanctuary in its serenest beauty, offering solitude from the churlish reality that yaws many an irregularity.
Courtesy: Amazon.com
I could go on evincing about my hero in black and white till the end of time, but unfortunately time and space halts me from speaking or eulogising about my hero. In fact, there’s a biography entitled “Forgive me Amma” written by Sundeep Misra, that would tell many a tale about Dhanraj Pillay. Any one of you, fancy it a reading?
So I would like to end my piece with the following lines from that book:
“Watching Dhanraj play was magical, it tells us a story so personal, so universal – the story of one man’s pride and passion being humbled by the whim and fancy of the gods.”
With Gratitude and Prostrating Respects,
Ravi Teja Mandapaka
