Laxman's retirement speech &
Some of the beautiful articles published post his retirement
"Not many batsmen made batting look as easy as VVS Laxman. If a cricketer's greatness is to be measured in terms of his performances against the best opposition of his time, then Laxman stands right at the top; his record against Australia, the world's No. 1 team for the better part of his career, speaks for itself. Indian cricket-lovers, and the game of cricket itself, will miss him for the elegance and grace that he epitomised, on and off the field."
BCCI president N Srinivasan
Laxman's retirement speech
ESPNcricinfo staff I August 18, 2012
A transcript of VVS Laxman's retirement speech made in Hyderabad on Saturday.
Thank you everyone for coming over here at such a short notice. I would like to announce my retirement from international cricket with immediate effect.
It has been 16 years since I made my international debut for India and I feel it is the right time to move on. I have always kept the country's success and needs ahead of my personal aspirations and hence, while I would have loved to be contributing to the team success against England and Australia later in the season, I think it's the right time to give the opportunity to groom a youngster in home conditions before the tough tours overseas next year.
As a youngster, representing India was a dream and I am grateful to the almighty for blessing me to live my dream. I have always felt that through cricket, I got an opportunity to serve my country and I therefore took a lot of pride in wearing the India cap. I was fortunate to play in an era when the Indian cricket team played some of its best cricket, both at home and abroad.
I was very lucky that I had a lot of people during this fabulous journey who guided and encouraged me and I take this opportunity to sincerely thank all of them from the bottom of my heart. My parents, Dr V Shantharam and Dr V Satyabhama, for the upbringing they gave me which helped me face various challenges and situations in my career with equanimity and also for giving me the freedom and independence to pursue my passion of playing cricket. My uncle, Baba Krishna Mohan, who actually spotted the talent in me and probably had the biggest influence on my life….
My wife, Sailaja, who has been a pillar of strength to me since our marriage in 2004. She made a lot of sacrifices in her personal aspirations only to make sure I pursued my passion of playing cricket for the country with a free mind. She has almost single-handedly looked after my two lovely kids, Sarvajit and Achinthya, as I was, most of the time, travelling with my cricket commitments.
My brother, VVS Ramakrishna, for all the love and affection he showered on me. My childhood buddies Rajesh and Parth for the continued friendship they share with me. My teachers at the Little Flower High School, especially Jaiprakash Sir, for all the encouragement they gave me early in my life.
My coaches at the St John's Cricket Foundation for the guidance and support they gave me. My personal coach Ashok bhai, for spending endless hours so that I can hone my skills. The Hyderabad Cricket Association, for recognising my talent and encouraging me, especially at the start of my career.
The BCCI for giving me an opportunity to play for my country for nearly 16 years. All my coaches at the various teams I represented at the domestic and national levels, for always encouraging and motivating me to become a consistent performer. All the selectors, for reposing faith in my abilities and giving me an opportunity to serve the country. All the captains I played under, for inspiring me.
All the teammates with whom I played and shared the best moments of my life. I was very fortunate to play with colleagues who took a lot of pride in theirs and the team's performances and most of them have become legends of the game. The affection, bonding and friendship they shared with me will be cherished by me for life. All the physios and trainers who worked hard to keep me fit.
All my friends from the media who always supported me during my career. All my fans and well-wishers from India and across the world for all the encouragement and good wishes they showered on me. I tried my best to give everything I had to the team while maintaining my dignity. There were times I am sure I must have disappointed them, but I can assure them it was definitely not because of a lack of effort.
I conclude in all humility, by praying to the Almighty, to take Indian cricket to the highest level in the world in all forms of the game.
Thank you for all your support.
A wizard among muggles
To borrow from JK Rowling: in a dressing room of players of varying and outstanding gifts, achievements and records VVS Laxman was always the only magician
Sharda Ugra I August 18, 2012
VVS Laxman's retirement from international cricket comes like all significant retirements do - with a wave of gratitude and a sense of impending gloom. The gloom is largely impractical because everyone - the good, the great, the not-so-good, and the downright ugly - must someday leave the game.
The wave of gratitude in Laxman's case will be tidal, given the nature of his presence in India's greatest-ever middle order. To borrow from JK Rowling, in a dressing room of muggles - of varying and outstanding gifts, achievements and records - Laxman was always the only wizard.
His announcement comes the day after New Zealand landed in India for a two-Test series. For the last 24 hours, the strongest rumour doing the rounds was that this largely ho-hum season opener would become a rousing farewell tour for Laxman. And why not? The best of his cricket has been rousing stuff anyway, so some noise and sparkle in return, as he goes, would only have been in order.
Yet, far removed from noise and sparkle, in his retirement speech Laxman talked of his "inner voice" and its call to put the team's needs ahead of his "personal aspirations" - successful home series against Australia and England. As much as the immediate effect of his retirement surprised everyone, it ideally shouldn't have, mostly because it was Laxman. As the excess and flamboyance of Indian cricket has been amped up in these last few years, Laxman has remained a man of another time, given largely to modesty and graciousness. It is what he will be remembered for by his team-mates and the crowd. That and the wizardry of his batting, with its ability to defy coaching templates and the geometry of the game, and to make the most manic of situations melt away.
Laxman spoke of the fiendish difficulty of arriving at the decision and the "internal dialogue" that went through his mind for the last four or five days. His decision was conveyed to the selectors and the Indian board only on Saturday morning. If it unintentionally left the outgoing selectors with red faces, it is hard to sympathise with them. The Indian Test team may have played badly in the last 12 months, but the selectors have been way worse.
Laxman, however, leaves on his terms, with a clear conscience and the widest, most radiant grin in the game. When he was into the first two sentences of his retirement speech, the electricity failed in the Uppal Stadium's swish conference room. As Laxman laughed, the seriousness of the announcement dissolved a little.
What triggered Laxman's internal dialogue is not known. Wherever his internal tussle came from, it led to an utterly sound decision in cricketing terms: "to give an opportunity to youngsters, and no better than against an inexperienced New Zealand bowling attack."
Whenever great players retire - and Laxman's greatness is a part of the fabric of Indian cricket more than its record books - there is much discussion about "legacy" and the last few months of their career. What usually happens is the opposite: the mind goes into high-speed rewind, the last few months, if not glorious, fade into insignificance, and all that remains is a highlights package of memories. The highlights package of Laxman's career can be stuck into Harry Potter novels, replete as it is with adventure, drama and, of course, magic.
In Laxman's decision to stick on and play Ranji Trophy for Hyderabad lies something romantic, old-fashioned and quite Laxmanesque. This is, after all, an age when cricketers focus their attention on trimming their long-format games in order to stay relevant in T20. Laxman has spent recent months in fierce training. In his last competitive fixture, in the KSCA's invitational Shafi Darashah four-day tournament, he scored 169 for the Hyderabad Cricket Association XI against the KSCA XI in Mysore as recently as ten days ago. There is no doubt that he can still turn out for his struggling first-class team, and that he could even turn its fortunes around. When he plays home games for Hyderabad now, he will bat at an end in the Uppal stadium that will be named after him. In his own retiring, self-effacing yet proud way, he is his city Hyderabad's premier cricketer, bar none.
A unique and distinct batsman, Laxman has often been revealed by his career choices. At the turn of the century he told the selectors that he was not willing to be turned into a makeshift opener, ready to take a leap of faith and fight for his place in the middle order. When the IPL was being founded, Laxman gave up his "icon" status - i.e. a 15% higher earning than the highest-paid players - so that Deccan Chargers could have more funds at their disposal during the first auction. He has never talked about what he was promised by the owners in return for surrendering "icon" status and what he was actually paid. There's a very good chance it was neither equal nor more.
India's greatest middle order is now completely disbanded. The only man left in it is the man who became its foundation - Sachin Tendulkar. He will be batting in the Hyderabad Test around a remodelled line-up. He will look around the dressing room and miss colleagues of familiar and reassuring quality.
Yet for every rookie, starting out at home is actually the most comfortable of introductions to the demanding world of Test cricket. For most of his career in the middle order, whether at Nos. 3, 5, or 6, Laxman was always up to answering the most bafflingly difficult of Test cricket's demands. No muggle could possibly replicate the wizard's batting. The least a successor could attempt to do would be to match Laxman's mettle.
'One of the finest human beings to have played cricket'
Cricketers and those associated with the game pay tribute to VVS Laxman, after he announces his international retirement in Hyderabad
ESPNcricinfo staff I August 18, 2012
"When i walk out to play in Hyderabad I will feel a deep void. A void that can never be filled. My dear friend, VVS Laxman..." India team-mate Sachin Tendulkar on Twitter
"The whole team will miss you VVS. One of the best human beings I have ever met in my life. Spent a lot of time with him while batting and fielding and the chat would always be about the team. Personally, I will really miss you Lachu bhai."...India captain MS Dhoni
"The best part about Laxman was his sense of grace on and off the field, both in good times and bad times. I will remember him most for his sense of balance while batting, his ability to keep smiling whatever the situation and the tenacity to keep bouncing back."...Former India captain Rahul Dravid
"That was the brightest day in Laxman's career. That innings had a big impact on Indian cricket. It had given us a huge sense of relief and made us have belief in ourselves that we're not behind... Since then, we never looked back as Indian cricket kept improving."...Former India captain Sourav Ganguly on Laxman's 281 in the 2001 Kolkata Test against Australia
"Laxman has had an outstanding career. He is one of the few batsmen who was a great chaser, an art only a few could master."...Former India captain Dilip Vengsarkar
"Laxman you were amazing [at] cricket everyone knows, but you were surely the best human being I have ever met. God bless you with all the happiness in future."...India team-mate Harbhajan Singh
"VVS is one of the finest human beings to have played cricket. One of the main pillars of the team and a true friend. Words are not enough."...India team-mate Virender Sehwag
"From carrying his innings to carrying himself, VVS has shown immense class. Will miss you Laxman bhai."...India team-mate Suresh Raina
"Laxman bhai has always been an inspiration for all the cricketers. Gonna miss watching him play for India. Wish him all the best for future!"...India batsman Manoj Tiwary
Congrats to VVS Laxman on an amazing career...Australian Captain Michael Clarke on Twitter
"Laxman. His attitude is infectious. Felt at peace after talking to him. A salute to him for a great career and inspiring many lives."...India Under-19 captain Unmukt Chand
"Requires a very special man to turn his back on a grandstand end and accept the moment has come. Rose in my eyes if he could any more."...Cricket commentator Harsha Bhogle
"Not many batsmen made batting look as easy as VVS Laxman. If a cricketer's greatness is to be measured in terms of his performances against the best opposition of his time, then Laxman stands right at the top; his record against Australia, the world's No. 1 team for the better part of his career, speaks for itself. Indian cricket-lovers, and the game of cricket itself, will miss him for the elegance and grace that he epitomised, on and off the field."...
BCCI president N Srinivasan
'You're the angel we all strive to be'
Murali Kartik writes to his Lachhi mama
Murali Kartik I August 20, 2012
Dear Lacchi mama,
Where do I begin to sum up the times we have shared? Let me start with an incident. As you know I have bowled to you many, many times in the nets. But on the eve of the Ahmedabad Test against Sri Lanka in 2005, you charged and hit an uncharacteristic drive early on in the nets. Even before I could react you were so apologetic. In that lovely Dakhni, which we call Hyderabadi Hindi, you said: "Jaan boojh ke nahin mara. Hona bol ke mara. Practice kar ne ke liye hona bol ke mara (I did not hit you on purpose. But since this is practice, I had to hit you). What an endearing statement. How could anyone not have liked you?
If you do not mind me saying this, I think of myself as lucky to have become a close friend. In this dog-eat-dog-world, you were always comforting to have around. Right from my international debut against South Africa in 2000, you always made time for me. I played against you for the first time at the Pachaiyappas College ground in Chennai in a practice match and incredibly, from that day till today, you have remained the same man.
You have been my best friend in Indian cricket. I was honoured when I was the only cricketer to have been invited to your wedding ceremony in 2004. If you remember, there was a ritual where the priest hands over two wooden artifacts, of a boy and a girl, representing the family that the marriage will create. Traditionally they are given to the groom's sister. You gave it to my wife Shweta, and when your children were born, you came over to our house in Gurgaon to pick them up.….
If I think of when we became close pals, one incident does come to mind. It goes back to 2003 and it makes me laugh. I am sure you already know what I am referring to. Prior to the 2003 World Cup, I was picked for the away tour of New Zealand after I had a good home ODI series against West Indies. I did not play in New Zealand, but was surprisingly - okay, I was surprised - dropped from the one-day leg of the tour.
You were the only one who comforted me, saying things like this happen. New Zealand was not a spinner's territory anyway. There was not much I could have done as Anil Kumble and Harbhajan Singh were the senior spinners in the side then. I had been looking forward to the ODI series, especially as the World Cup squad was going to be announced soon.
But when the World Cup squad was announced, shockingly, your name was not to be found in the side. Ironically, both of us found ourselves playing against the other in a Ranji Trophy match in Hyderabad and a month later, we were off to the Caribbean as part of the India A tour. When we thought of New Zealand, we would laugh. Needless to say, neither of us were not present mentally on that A-team trip, especially you, considering you had registered four consecutive ducks in the first two matches. You said at the time: "From now on Kartik, I am never going to advise you because the same thing happens to me as well." To be your friend is a much bigger reward from cricket than any other award I will ever get.
I was also lucky to have played under you as captain. Including you, I have played under three very good captains: VB Chandrashekar at India Cements followed by Azzu bhai (Mohammad Azharuddin) at the international level. You were one of the best leaders I have played under. Your style was very much from the Azharuddin school of thought: the bowler is his own captain to a certain extent. For me, that was brilliant because I knew what I was trying to do and if my captain was backing me, what more could I expect? You never tried to impose or intrude on me. You were positive, set attacking fields and made me, the bowler, feel like a champion.
I clearly remember the Mumbai Test against Australia in 2004 when you played a match-winning hand with 69 in the second innings (highest by any batsman on both sides) on one of the trickiest pitches. Despite that you were so generous in complimenting me after I won the Man-of-the-Match award for my seven-wicket haul. On the big plastic cheque that came with the award, you were the first to write: "Absolute matchwinner. Always believe many, many more to come."
But mama we know that the true matchwinner was you. On so many occasions, especially in the second Test against Australia in Adelaide in 2003. It was 45 degrees, but you and Rahul Dravid batted amazingly to grind out a quality opposition in a 303-run stand after India were on the mat at 85 for 4. People will continue to talk about your 281, but I enjoyed your 148, which played such an influential hand in taming the Aussies and help India win a Test abroad. That victory played such a big role in India's transformation in the years to come as we went on to become the No. 1 Test team.
Personally I have always been surprised about how you never said anything bad about anyone - your critics, even people who have harmed you. Not many remain silent.
Remember when you decided to divest the icon status at Deccan Chargers in the inaugural season of the IPL? I knew you never had any fascination for money; what you were eager for was to make sure Hyderabad had a strong team. You always strived to make an honest attempt to make your team perform. When I suggested the name of a senior player in the Indian domestic circuit, who was ignored earlier during first IPL, you went out of your way to get him into the team.
We saw your your selflessness on Saturday again, when you said goodbye to international cricket. When you came into the Indian team you had played overseas in the first few years. But with India having not performed well abroad in the recent past, it became important for a young batsman to play well at home first and establish himself. I know you would have thought you were not doing the right thing if you carried on playing. How many people think about Indian cricket and about the fact that a young cricketer needs to break in to the team for him to be groomed? You could have easily added more to your 134 Test caps.
I have always believed in the saying the right thing and not the nice thing. You were very soft-spoken and at the same time very idealistic. Your attitude taught me to be the way I am. You always have maintained there are certain things you can't change about destiny. That has helped me to remain inspired, motivated and not get disgruntled about cricket despite being left out of the team so many times.
I really can't believe you will not play international cricket anymore. When I heard about your retirement, I was in tears. You have, and will remain, a calming influence in my life. If Sachin is called the god of cricket, then you, VVS, are the angel we all strive to be.
The author is an India international currently playing in England
Laxman the revolutionary
You could marvel at VVS Laxman's unorthodox style as long as you didn't try it at home
Aakash Chopra I August 21, 2012
As I look back to my first memories of VVS Laxman, a scene from a South Zone v North Zone Duleep Trophy game in January 2001 plays itself out vividly in my mind.
There were about 15 international cricketers playing in that game, and clearly the quality of cricket was top-notch. Though heaps of runs were scored, it was Laxman's love for refined cricket, which he played with the utmost subtlety and culture, and his supreme skill, that stood out in a way that it remains etched in my mind till this day. Such was his aura that a team-mate had to point out that instead of cheering for our bowlers and egging our team on, I was celebrating Laxman's fine display. It's hard to not be influenced and inspired by greatness.
Laxman had been striking two or three boundaries every over without breaking a sweat, and it felt as if getting smacked all over the park was a small price to pay to witness something truly spectacular. That's what Laxman did all his life to his team-mates and opposition - while his team-mates appreciated his craft, the opposition wished they could be on his side.
Standing in that lonely slip position that day, I was made aware of the fact that a seemingly orthodox, unadventurous-seeming, rather reticent-looking man could play revolutionary cricket; that the belief that cricket is an extension of one's personality wasn't always true. Laxman had made his nonconformist style look like a chapter from the coaching manual - one that the guidebook had been forced to include.
Working the angles
Most young batsmen are taught that the easiest way to bat is to play the ball back in the direction it came from, which basically means playing it with a straight bat. Once you grow as a batsman, you learn to play with the swing and spin, which is an extension of playing with the straight bat. You further learn to either play a little early or to delay the stroke to find gaps, but you're always advised not to play across the line or against the spin or swing….
Laxman turned these fundamentals on their head by not only showing that meeting the ball with an angled bat produces desirable results but also proving that playing with the spin and swing is overrated. Though his style of play made batting look ever so easy, if inspected in detail, it was nothing less than an engineering marvel, for he worked out the angles astutely.
You're advised not to play against the spin, especially when a bowler of Shane Warne's quality is bowling into the rough, but Laxman showed that you can, with good results, if you close the face of the bat at precisely the time of impact (and not a fraction earlier, like more ordinary batsmen tend to do, resulting in return catches). By doing so, he created extraordinary angles, piercing the well-guarded on-side field. His ability to create these angles by, at times, bringing the bat down at a slight angle, or using his supple wrists, enabled him to find gaps where others found fielders. Muttiah Muralitharan, another champion bowler, said that Laxman could potentially play shots on either side of the wicket to any given ball, which made it impossible for a captain to set fields for him.
Playing it late
Most batsmen who are extremely strong off the legs have a technical deficiency that forces their head to fall slightly towards the off side in the stance. The moment the head falls, the judgement of lines gets blurred. This results in hitting balls pitched on off-middle towards the on side. Essentially, these players' affinity for the on side is a byproduct of a technical flaw.
Laxman's preference for the on-side, though, was by design, and he was equally fluent through the off side. His supple wrists and his ability to delay a shot till the last possible instant allowed him to hit balls pitched on middle stump to the right of the square-leg umpire. This is perhaps the most difficult shot to create, because if you don't find the pinpoint precision necessary, you're doomed. You not only have to delay the shot when attempting this stroke, you also need to close the bat face completely (almost showing the edge of the bat to the bowler), and yet hit the ball from the middle.
This became a routine - just when the bowler thought the ball was going to elude Laxman, because he looked visibly late on it, the bat would come down. If Laxman had delayed his shots by even a fraction more than he did, the ball would have hit his body or the stumps. Such was his pristine timing.
Economy of movement
As expansive as Laxman's hand movements were, he was frugal when it came to moving his feet to reach the pitch of the ball, for he could make up for it with his hands. The lack of movement made him extremely still at the crease, which meant that he was rarely off balance. The lack of foot movement created room for his arms and hands to work freely, which made him a free-flowing batsman when in form. The flip side of reaching the ball with hands and not feet was that it didn't look very compact when he was out of form, like in Australia last winter.
Laxman's cricket has been a paradox of a zen-like façade and a fighter's instinct within. Perhaps that's what makes him one of the most intriguing cricketers of our times. His batting has been a viewer's delight, and many Laxman innings have been spectacular cricket extravaganzas. Some of his shots deserve a statutory warning: these stunts have been performed by an expert, please don't try them at home!
Former India opener Aakash Chopra is the author of Out of the Blue, an account of Rajasthan's 2010-11 Ranji Trophy victory. His website is here and his Twitter feed here
Sixteen years, and suddenly gone
As they step out to take on New Zealand, India will wake up to the reality of not having two monumental pillars of their Test success as part of the XI
Sharda Ugra I August 22, 2012
At 9:25am on Thursday, August 23, when the bell goes in Hyderabad, for all practical and formal purposes, it will signal to everyone - umpires, players and the crowd - that there's five minutes left for play to start in the first Test between India and New Zealand.
The bell will largely be heard by those around the dressing rooms but across Indian cricket, it will also become the sound of the earth rumbling.
It will resound with finality, bringing home the truth that when the Indian team looks for security and courage, resolve and imagination, they will have to look elsewhere. Starting Thursday, India set out without Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman, the Everyman artisans of their greatest-ever middle order.
Hyderabad will not mark the first time that India have been without both Dravid and Laxman in the playing XI since the time they made their debuts. What is remarkable is that in the 16 years since Dravid's Test career began - five months before Laxman's - only once has the team been without both of them.
Injuries in the preceding Test series versus Bangladesh - Laxman in Chittagong, Dravid in Dhaka - had kept both of them out of the 2010 Nagpur Test against South Africa. India lost that match by an innings and six runs. For the next Test in Kolkata, Laxman returned, India won by an innings and 75. Dravid, meanwhile, recovered from surgery after being hit on the jaw by Shahadat Hossain, and when India played its next Test five months later against Sri Lanka, he was back.
Nagpur 2010 could have been slotted as either hiccup or harbinger. In the romping-stomping aftermath of India's rise to the No. 1 Test rankings, whatever it was, Hyderabad 2012 is certainly going to be definitive. Inevitable yet significant. Pragmatically we could think of it as yet another upheaval in cricket's relentless churn. Who knows who and what will take over and how incandescent they might indeed be?
Indeed. Inside the dressing room, there will be little room or time or attention for sentiment alone. Even though every man in the room, particularly the rookies, know that what the team is first looking for are two to fill this Dravid and Laxman-sized hole.
In numerical terms for India, they were 22069 Test runs, 345 catches but most importantly, 45 Test victories. When together at either end of the crease, they put up 4065 runs, averaged 51.45 had 12 century-stands and 14 50-plus partnerships. Laxman's Test career may have taken slightly longer to get warmed up than Dravid's did. But in his 134 Tests, Laxman didn't share a dressing room with Dravid in only two: Ahmedabad 2005 against Sri Lanka and Kolkata, 2010.
If numbers create structures, Dravid and Laxman's are a tower block of the kind that is now sold to urban Indians with central air-conditioning, high-speed elevators, heated swimming pools and helipads. Premium luxury. Those names fill the No. 2 and No. 4 spots among India's highest Test run-scorers. Between them is only S M Gavaskar.
Dravid and Laxman bookended either side of the middle order - at No. 3 and No. 5/6 - and their partnerships being, more often than not, that of India's last specialist batting pair. Now and then, there were discussions about theoretically where each could have been better fit. On the field the truth was that together or apart, they just fit. Without either man, things could easily have fallen apart.
They were different and distinct and, at their finest, perfectly synchronised. Even when helmeted and dressed in identical whites, Dravid and Laxman were easily identifiable whether standing on the roof of Eden Gardens or on the footboard of a train whizzing past the Wankhede. Laxman will be the taller, more angular, with geometric, squared shoulders. Dravid, the leaner, slighter framed, more compact in comparison, helmet strap hanging loose. On appearance alone, Laxman could have easily have been slotted in as classical batsman, Dravid, the ephemeral stylist. Which is why they say those things about not judging books.
Before they went out to bat, Dravid needed his quiet. Laxman often jumped into the shower to the bafflement of mates. In the slips they would stand next to each other, Dravid in his blue India cap, Laxman in white, broad-brimmed floppy. They chatted, they said, about children or dinner or pursuing electricians and plumbers when they were getting new homes built. When they batted together, each at his own pace, lost in his own music - adagio and allegro somehow in harmony - they didn't talk much. Mostly it was just encouragement, "keep going."
It was what Laxman and Dravid did for 16 years. Kept going. They were the constant, driven and key components of Indian cricket's most successful Test decade; their stardom defined by accomplishment way over 'brand value.' They represent an age and an era that Indian cricket could do well to fall back on - of intense competitiveness being balanced by reasonable conduct. Not the other way round. Dravid and Laxman produced their best in a high-altitude, highly strung, highly ambitious, highly competitive environment. Without a swagger, without an aura but with the sheer weight of their skill, pride, and ambition.
Had they not taken to cricket, with a surging, deep, fundamental love for the sport, each would have easily found a niche elsewhere: Dravid, a tie-wearing, multinational executive supporting social causes, Laxman in a doctor's coat, nodding patiently as patients complained well into the night. They came to the team that was to become their own, survived through the mid-90s, past the horrors of match-fixing, and became the reasons how and why India was able to, as The Doors described it, "break on through to the other side."
To us on the outside, of cricket, the team, its internal dynamic and whatever makes it work, the absence of Dravid, RS and Laxman, VVS, on a Test match scoresheet for India will take some getting used to.
Sixteen years after all is an entire generation - in 16 years, toddlers turn into teenagers, teenagers into the thirty-somethings, yuppies into the weary middle-aged. Sixteen years can be life-changing. Like that partnership in Kolkata. They did it, remember? Turned 'bat the whole day' from idiom to reality.
It is why the first stirrings of India's 2012 10-Test home season will contain, before everything else, the hollowness of departure. Like the turning away from a farewell handshake, the shutting of a door, the quiet after a goodbye on the telephone.
Dravid and Laxman, Laxman and Dravid. Gone.
Sharda Ugra is senior editor at ESPNcricinfo
The man who brought thrills and hope
Laxman excited with his elegance, then he instilled a sense of calm. In between, he played the greatest innings by an Indian
Harsha Bhogle I August 24, 2012
It was always "chik", that sound from VVS Laxman's bat when it met ball; a gentle sound, barely audible, a pleasant meeting of two otherwise antagonistic elements. And I often wondered if he would one day play a shot that made no noise at all, as if there were no protest from the ball. It was always like that, always "chik", never the more laboured, more demanding, "thok". No, that was a sound for you and me, for people who needed to muscle a ball, to discipline it.
Only once did I hear him go "thok", in an IPL game, when he was trying to heave a ball over midwicket. He was throwing bat at ball, like a painter of fine miniatures splashing colours, a sitarist playing the drums, a polite man raising his voice. It wasn't him. Laxman and the IPL were never friends, and you could see why.
You could also see why Laxman might have made a fine surgeon; gentle, precise incisions - they might even have been painless - and a sense of calm around him. Indeed, that was what it was thought he was meant to be, coming as he did from a family of doctors. When his parents were told their son could bat, when word began to spread that a kid was batting with a feather, they let him find his calling. But when the schoolboy came home, there was an earthworm laid out to be dissected on one of those trays biology students will recognise. He had missed school and his education was still important.
Early in his career Laxman was the strokeplayer, revelling against pace, standing up to punch deliciously through cover, or merely pausing in the midst of what others might have called an off-drive, or even pulling through midwicket. He did all that in an astonishing innings in Sydney a few days after the fireworks had announced the end of a millennium. It was one of the finest innings I have seen played against fast bowling: 167 out of 261, against McGrath, Fleming, Lee and Warne, with 27 boundaries. ….
The SCG might have made him feel at home, and it invariably did, but it had to take second place in his career to Eden Gardens, where he averaged 110 from ten Tests (at the SCG, a relatively more modest 78 with three centuries from four Tests). He made five centuries in Kolkata, none more celebrated than that 281, but there was another innings that was to announce the arrival of a man so light on his feet that he seemed to skip towards wherever the ball was pitched.
It was March 1998 and Laxman opened the batting with Navjot Sidhu (wouldn't that have been a priceless mid-wicket conversation!). He made 95 but that was the first time you saw him dance out to Shane Warne and play against the turn through midwicket; or rather against some perceived turn, because he was right where the ball pitched. And then, as if to pay obeisance to an old art, he hit the same ball inside-out through cover occasionally. It was as thrilling a display of batsmanship against spin as any you will see; a sneak preview, maybe, of what was to come three years later, when he played not just the finest but the grandest Test innings by an Indian.
It was inevitable, then, to compare him to that other great Hyderabad batsman, Mohammad Azharuddin. You could see they came from the same school of batsmanship - wrists so supple and obedient that they diverted the ball into crazy spaces just when it seemed it was sniffing at the stumps. Their records aren't dissimilar. Azhar averaged 45.03 from 99 Tests to Laxman's 45.97 from 134. Azhar had 22 centuries and 21 fifties, an amazing conversion, compared to Laxman's 17 centuries and 56 fifties. Once he vacated No. 3 early in his career, Azhar batted at No. 5, which is around where Laxman gravitated to. But Azhar remained the athlete throughout, always light on his feet, whereas Laxman grew a little heavier and tended to, as Aakash Chopra recently pointed out, reach for the ball with his hands in the latter half of his career. Both were remarkably delicate of touch, though Laxman handled pace, and specifically bounce, significantly better.
And until the world of glamour and high-street labels entrapped Azhar, they were very similar people: warm, generous, god-fearing and extraordinarily humble. Hyderabad was like that in the '80s and early '90s; an unhurried city where commerce had merely a bit role, where people spent hours in each other's company and hugged warmly. In August 2012, when Laxman announced his retirement, it was done with the dignity of a man unchanged by commerce and opportunity, who continued to give freely. It was, if I may be permitted a bit of indulgence, Hyderabad as it used to be.
By 2001, Azhar had gone, in the kind of cinematic twist that nobody who saw him as a young man could have imagined. India needed reassurance, for the fan was hurt and felt cheated. A group came together then, a strong confluence of character, and shepherded India through. Sachin Tendulkar was the senior-most, only marginally so over Anil Kumble and Javagal Srinath; Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman, so similar in culture and upbringing, were finding their feet; and at the helm was Sourav Ganguly, a little more brash but his heart belonged to India. It was against this backdrop that the 281 was scored. On the 14th of March, two men of great pedigree put on 335 without being separated. India won the next day, when a callow Sikh took six wickets. India re-embraced cricket, and the shyest of that amazing group of cricketers was centre-stage.
The 281 was followed by spectacular cameos, and it wasn't till Australia again, in 2003, that he rediscovered his best. In December he made 148 in a memorable win in Adelaide, and then Sydney welcomed him again. On the 3rd of January 2004, he made 178. Then in coloured clothing but with similar finesse, he made 103 not out on the 18th, and 106 on the 22nd, both against Australia, and on the 24th he made 131 against Zimbabwe. That was his peak. To merely watch was to be aware that we were in the presence of rare beauty.
He never batted like that again, except maybe for the customary century in Sydney in 2008, when he made 109. The new Laxman was less thrilling, more restrained. In his last 51 Tests he averaged 51.36 compared to a career average of 45.97. He was more solid, more dependable; the lightness of touch was still there, the dignity unwavering, but he wasn't the fencer anymore; he didn't dart towards the ball. Instead, he waited for it, played more from his crease. Where you were on the edge of your seat before, you now sat more calmly. Indeed, he now brought hope where he had dealt in thrill.
And thus he played out his career, the moving ball posing more problems towards the end. It is inevitable, for the faculties must dim. The yearning for the touch, the lightness of execution, grew. Occasionally the ball would still kiss the blade fleetingly and vanish to the boundary, as a reminder of the artist we had in our midst. In India, where he recognised every accent, every idiom a ball could come up with, he could have given himself another year. He really did want to beat England and Australia again.
But it wasn't to be. A man of deep faith and integrity said he listened to an inner divine voice that told him the time had come. And we must believe him, for this is not the time to search for conspiracy. A career of a wonderful man and outstanding batsman is now behind us and it has left us with many memories to savour.
Laxman had something every cricketer dreams of: respect in his dressing room and in those of his opponents. And the opportunity to leave our game richer. It's been a mighty fine innings.
Harsha Bhogle is a commentator, television presenter and writer. His Twitter feed is here
VVS: man who never fell from grace
A. Joseph Antony I The Hindu
The cricketing world will be a lot poorer without V.V.S. Laxman
A blue Honda City was zipping down Secunderabad’s Sardar Patel Road in February 2004. Finding it familiar, I overtook it on my TVS Victor. At the wheel was a tall young man who had driven the Australians crazy, till about two days before.
So that he recognises me, I raised my helmet’s visor and waved at V.V.S. Laxman. He promptly signalled me to pull up to the side, as he steered his vehicle towards the pavement.
Lowering a window glass, he asked me to step into the car. Had he ventured out, he’d have been mobbed, what with his t(h)rashing of the Aussies still fresh in public memory.
“Joe, I want you and family to attend my wedding,” he said, as he wrote on the invitation card, resting it on the steering wheel. To stress this nearly filmy exercise was no mere formality, he added, “Be sure you bring this card. Security could be tight, as Chief Minister Chandrababu Naidu is expected to attend.”
Among the last of the guests to arrive at the five star hotel, we waited with Zaheer Khan to greet the newly-weds, who were in a photo shoot. Not quite sure what to gift a man who had seen the world, with trepidation we presented him a basket of home-made chocolates.
To match the occasion, my wife had crafted them in the twin-hearts mould.
Laxman’s face lit up when told it was chocolates, which he said his wife loved, as he introduced us to her. A little overawed by the occasion, I was hesitant to ask for a photograph with the couple. Sensing it perhaps, he said, “Let’s have a picture together.” Thoughtful as ever, he said, “To be on the safe side, we’ll have another taken.”
While my wife and I flanked the couple, Laxman positioned our two sons in front of each of them, newly pronounced man and wife resting their hands on the shoulders of our little chaps, in the second picture. Before we exited the stage, he wanted a word with me. “Please do not leave without having dinner,” he said softly, as if whispering a secret.
Three years ago, very soon after the epochal 2001 series at home against Steve Waugh-led Australia, I sought an interview at a time and place to suit him. To my surprise, he insisted the choice would be mine. “Please come to The Hindu office in Begumpet,” I suggested, since I had no computer or laptop of my own.
At the designated 4.30 p.m., the mobile rang and my heart sank. Fearing ridicule from colleagues if he didn’t turn up, I’d kept only our photographer colleague K. Ramesh Babu in the loop regarding the impending visit. It was Laxman on the line. “Joe, is it ok if I’m 15 minutes late,” he asked, much to my relief.
Tense by now, I’d gone to relieve myself, when the office peon came looking for me frantically. “V.V.S. Laxman is in the sports cabin and asking for you,” said he, hugely excited. When the wristy wizard had asked how long our interview would take, I’d said half an hour at the most.
He spent three times that duration, signing autographs and stood for pictures, obliging everyone who asked, the warmth and smile remaining the same, regardless of who he posed with.
Thoughtfulness
If small steps lead to big ones, thoughtfulness shown by celebrities in little things only accentuates their greatness. Never once falling from grace, on or off the field, he elicited admiration, even from adversaries. “Why did he pick on us,” Steve Waugh had asked, when last in Hyderabad.
The modest Hyderabadi’s colossal achievements pale before the man himself, his few words always outdone by his big deeds. And if sport builds character, as much as characters elevate a sport, the cricketing world will be a lot poorer without V.V.S. Laxman.
End of a glorious chapter
Vijay Lokapally I The Hindu
GAME-CHANGER: In one of the greatest Test innings of the modern era, V.V.S. Laxman scored a classy 281against Australia at Kolkata which took India to an astounding win after being asked to follow on. File photo
Laxman’s pristine qualities will be missed
Cricket will always be played and batting always celebrated. It has been so for ages. But the game won’t have a V.V.S. Laxman to decorate it with gems that had become an essential ingredient of his cricket career.
The graceful batsman has chosen to retire with dignity, even though in a huff, and kept his anguish to himself. He mulled over it for four days and it was a painful decision he was compelled to take in the interest of the team and his self pride. He could not always play on his terms, but at least in quitting he had it his way.
With Laxman’s exit, one of Indian cricket’s most glorious chapters of aesthetic batting has shut. To watch him bat was bliss. His class was pristine and Laxman knew it well. He worked hard to hone his style, mostly natural.
Only he can play
Those breathtaking flicks and nudges, those majestic drives and the nonchalant pulls, he had come to master them all. At a nets session one remembers coach John Wright calling a young batsman and telling him, “Watch him, but don’t try to imitate. Only VVS can play them.” Yes, only Laxman could have played with such imperious dominance. Not at nets; in a challenging match situation.
The affable Hyderabadi never had his way. He was made to open and was often shuffled in the batting order against his wishes till the time he got stuck at number 6.
This was a role he enjoyed immensely for it allowed him to grow as an individual in a team game. He played with great dignity, never inviting or expressing disrespect for fellow players or the opposition. Cricket was a pleasant way of life for Laxman, who scored centuries in Tests from position 1 to 6.
His batting was so strikingly contradictory to his character. Off the field he couldn’t hurt a fly but Laxman, the batsman, could destroy the most-famed bowling attacks. And here too, he would carry on the job in a manner that left even the opposition admiring his art.
An artist at work
He was an artist. The canvas of batting was a colourful salutation to his range. He could bat. And he could make others bat. Really, batting looked so easy, so attractive, when Laxman was on strike. He never struck at the ball but merely caressed it. His soft nature created a soft repertoire but quite an effective one.
Laxman, 37, was extremely popular with the Indian bowlers for two reasons. First, they didn’t have to bowl to him.
Second, he would willingly offer his services to be their batting coach. How often these very tail-enders would borrow his bat and go out to live his role.
Remember the one-wicket win over Australia at Mohali in 2010 when Laxman and Ishant Sharma added 81 runs for the ninth wicket. Ishant discovered his batting potential that afternoon. “Watching Laxman bhai bat, I thought this was easy. Watching him, I also thought how I wish I had been a batsman!” Not just Ishant, the list includes Harbhajan Singh, Zaheer Khan, Ashish Nehra, Pragyan Ojha.
Great reputation
It is not easy to be a match-winner at any level. Laxman acquired this reputation at the international level. With ease at that! “He is fabulous,” was how once Kapil Dev had remarked. He confessed it would have been a challenge to bowl to an in-form Laxman.
He had the time and skill to direct his shots. “On his day he could beat even 22 fielders and find the boundary,” as Zaheer Khan had rightly analysed during the course of a batting symphony by Laxman.
“The greatest innings ever played by an Indian still belongs to him,” remarked Bishan Singh Bedi. So well remembered! The 281 at the Eden Gardens in 2001 gave new life to Indian cricket and Sourav Ganguly. A pity, they let Laxman down in his hour of need!
In Laxman’s hurried retirement, Indian cricket has lost one of its best match-winner. The game will not be the same. Certainly not for the connoisseurs of artistic batsmanship; nor for the purists! Batsmen like Laxman just don’t come very often.
Goodbye, Laxman
For over a decade his best was saved for Australia, thrilling prime ministers and lesser folk - until this tour
Christian Ryan I January 31, 2012
VVS Laxman set foot in Australia on a Wednesday. Thursday was sunny, a sun shower skimming over the Gabba's practice nets and wetting the grass, causing Sourav Ganguly to slide in his bowler's run-up and sprain an ankle. On Friday, promoted from 12th-man duties to play in a still-sore Ganguly's stead, Laxman hit Queensland for 113.
Happenstance. That 113, in November 1999, sealed Laxman's spot in India's side, and in the Tests and one-dayers that followed he nearly squandered it - 41, 0, 5, 1, 7, 167, 9, 2, 2, 7, 1 and 3, the 167 reading like a typo now, and feeling at the time like a dream, a four-hour dream in a dead last Test, green caps crowding Laxman's bat and Laxman whipping balls in a triangle between mid-on and midwicket with a wrist-flick like rustling leaves, only muscular. TV watchers thought they could hear it.
He talked his way through the press conference afterwards. He turned for the dressing room. He stopped to sign autographs. He heard, coming out of reverie, a voice. "You know, you really made my day today" - John Howard's voice, Australia's prime minister.
Watching David Gower bat for Leicestershire one day, a Somerset supporter confided to journalist Alan Gibson that he hoped Gower might make fifty. Fifty came swiftly, and the Somerset man wished for 100 - in vain, Gower picking that moment to edge to slip. "Brightness," reported Gibson, "fell from the air."
Gower's comings and goings had that effect on Australians, too, made them hope he might linger awhile and sad when he went. Not many visiting batsmen in memory have had that power. Only the brilliant but fragile have it. The high probability that they won't quite click means that on the days when everything does click, watching cricket can feel like going to the movies. Gower had this in him, so did his rag-doll fellow Englishman Derek Randall, and Sri Lanka's Aravinda de Silva, and Pakistanis Majid Khan and, fleetingly, pipsqueak Qasim Omar, along with half a handful of West Indians, Roy Fredericks and Lawrence Rowe and Richie Richardson - late-era, purple sombrero-wearing, vulnerable Richie Richardson. Maybe two or three others. And VVS.
Happenstance happened upon him again in March 2001. He was batting with the tail in Kolkata, his slot in the team still dodgy, when an out-looking lbw shout at 9 for 140 - Venkatesh Prasad, trapped by a full toss - was judged not out. Laxman was on 37. He clattered his way to 59, confidence rising, until an umpire dispatched him caught off the wrist, which was happenstance again, because Laxman wasn't yet tired out, so when Australia enforced the follow-on he was asked to keep his pads on and march back out at number three, which he did. The rest is written on plinths, 281 for Laxman, 376 match-turning runs with Rahul Dravid, their partnership finding a dazzling 303-run encore two years later. In Adelaide. So Australia's bowlers were the sufferers again. Australia's TV watchers - again - were the lucky ones.
As a baby he watched his uncle hit tennis balls against a wall in his grandmother's backyard. Later, he'd wake with the sun to see Allan Border's canary yellows play their cigarette cup one-dayers. "It gave me," he has said, "a special feeling to watch cricket in Australia." When he abandoned his medicine school entry exams it was to attend a Bangalore cricket camp leading into three Under-19 Tests against Australia. Wrist-ravaging an attack of Gillespie, Lee and Nicholson, he averaged 110. For years his average was 10 bigger against Australia than against everyone else's bowlers. The differential is down to 3.7 now. The special feeling stretches on. It is mutual. Australians are proud of it. Laxman doesn't deny it. Asked to explain it, he always offers the same one word. "Coincidence."
A square cut during a 178 in Sydney split a gap between fielders Hayden and Langer, stationed within hand-holding distance of each other yet denied a quarter-second to move. Afterwards Laxman could not, or could barely, remember the shot. This innings coaxed out of Sachin Tendulkar, who'd made 241 himself, a compliment of such sumptuousness it makes most other cricketing compliments look backhanded: "I just decided I was going to stay there and watch… from the non-striker's end."
Another Sydney special, a 109, was jump-started with ten fours in Laxman's first 43 balls. After a 200 not out in Delhi, Stuart Clark complained he'd expected Laxman to thread off-side deliveries through midwicket, this was what he'd planned for, but Laxman kept doing it anyway. This echoed a better seam bowler than Clark's lament of Kolkata 2001 - "It didn't matter where you bowled," said Glenn McGrath, "or what you bowled" - a common puzzle of bowlers bowling to Laxman, a feeling of powerlessness, there being little or no correlation between a ball's merits and the ball's eventual destination. Wristwork is key to understanding. I'm "more hands", is Laxman's theory - and all heart, it feels like. Fours flow with no "look at me" note affixed to them. His tennis ball-hitting uncle, Baba Krishnamohan, admires Laxman's on-drive, off-drive, straight drive, cover drive, back-foot cover punch, pull shot and flick off the toes. Most top batsmen, Krishnamohan believes, have five good shots and his nephew has seven - had seven, rather.
A languid melancholy has clung to Laxman's movements this summer just gone, right up to the fourth evening in Adelaide. With 40 minutes to go his bat entered shutdown-till-stumps mode but his mind could not concentrate. Tapping fixatedly at the crease-line, he peeped up in time to see bowler Hilfenhaus about to let fly. Later that over, as he loped a single, square leg's direct hit nearly beat him - plonking, not grounding, his bat in. Next, a jab outside off; an edge. Straight at second slip's face. Down plopped the ball. Midwicket was moved in. Did Laxman not see? Three metres from the bat. And Laxman slapped straight to him.
The first innings had been little better, although there was one blast of the familiar when Laxman was on 11. Siddle pitched up, off stump or thereabouts, and with a snap of the wrists the ball was sent screeching to mid-on. No run, but magnificent, and it made you look twice. The second time you looked, you noticed that Virat Kohli had hit it, not Laxman. Laxman was at the non-striker's end. The last plane out of Australia must leave soon.
Christian Ryan is a writer based in Melbourne. He is the author of Golden Boy: Kim Hughes and the Bad Old Days of Australian Cricket and, most recently Australia: Story of a Cricket Country
The effortless artistry of VVS Laxman
When you watched him bat, there was a sense that you were witnessing the creation of something beautiful yet not inaccessible
Krishna Kumar I September 1, 2012
When I watch old tapes from the '60s and the '70s, and on occasion from the '80s, I marvel at how celebrations at a hundred or a wicket have changed over the years. A batsman used to raise his bat, tip his cap, and then get back to business. A bowler often used to just run to his close catchers; why, in the '60s, at times, they mostly rolled back a forever-rolling -down sleeve and walked back.
When VVS Laxman got to a milestone, it was as if you were back to watching those tapes, except his smile was broader. He positively beamed, and then the politeness of the man took over. It was as if he wished to acknowledge every single soul present on the ground. Helmet off, hands and bat aloft, that broad smile one moment. A gentle tip of the bat in all directions, the next. It was all so utterly genuine. None of the hurly-burly of modern-day professional sport. A Laxman hundred didn't seem to be an event that demanded exclusive celebration. It was completely, unpretentiously inclusive.
Australian crowds stood up to applaud his innings in whole-hearted unison. Grandparents, grandkids in tow, instantly identified with him as if he belonged to their time. The seniors pulled the kids along to show them this Indian artist at work, perhaps even to tell them this was how the game was played in their youth. They seemed to appreciate his old-world charm, in a more complete sense at times than crowds anywhere else.
From the time Laxman walked out to bat in Australia, everything seemed in soft synchrony. His light, upright walk had an added spring in its step. The open, welcoming feel that the grounds there gave him just the right amount of space to perform. The bounce in the land's pitches left one last lingering thought of a leg-before behind. An artist was liberated. It was no coincidence perhaps that Australian crowds were therefore treated to his finest knocks.
From his easy walk to the crease to the habitual walk down the pitch to pat down a few imaginary loose bits of earth, he looked so different from everyone else on the field. Very rarely did a frown crease his forehead, never was there a gritting of teeth. His left glove briefly touched the top of his thigh pad, then lightly tugged at his nose. All the while, his wrists, loose and relaxed. He settled in his stance, a light tap at the crease and then there were two more. He didn't make any allowances it would seem for the rough and tumble of professional sport. He was like an artist who had effortlessly borrowed from cricket to create soft patterns that soothe the senses.
To the good-length ball he arched back, took it on the top of its bounce and then gently coaxed it through the covers. Thereabouts as a long sigh escaped you, his artistic sensibilities seemingly yearning for something different, the next ball identical in qualities of line and length would be almost stopped in its path and then with a flick of his wrists sent away rapidly through midwicket. The ball never left the ground. It seemed to never need to. It had played its part in creating lofty art.
Laxman's cricket is equal perhaps in the sheer viewing pleasure that it offers as Roger Federer's tennis. Roger's wrists have the same relaxed tone. In between points and as he waits to return serve, the way his hands are kept in light, relaxed readiness, Federer and Laxman, in and around his batting stance, are strikingly similar. You could be forgiven if you forgot the match situation and watched each stroke for its singular artistry.
Watching Laxman bat around the turn of the millennium, the seemingly effortless artistry might have tempted you to get carried away and think things had always been thus. That very definitely wasn't the case.
His early opening stints had made him a diffident young man. There was a prayer on his lips almost every ball when India played Pakistan at the Kotla in 1998. There was that mercurial 167 at the SCG, but, there was just that.
A lot of us had cried ourselves hoarse for him to be played in the middle order. Selectorial whims had cast him in the Ranji King mould. Such moulds are rarely broken. But when they are, they carry with them powerful forces. Forces that can strengthen a man and humble his opponents.
How much Steve Waugh's defensive field placing helped him in that first innings in Kolkata we shall never know. It was the last few scoring strokes he made in that 59 that set the tone for that monumental second-innings knock. On such fine threads are cricketing histories woven. Somehow, in VVS's case, it seems particularly apt that this had been so.
For a day and a half, Laxman dominated the Australian attack like no one had in those times. For a day and a half, his expression never changed. That fourth day at the Eden Gardens, a surgeon's scalpel couldn't have been surer in method. Such was Laxman's use of his hands. Such artistry inspires. Rahul Dravid, who was having difficulty getting the ball off the square, finally blossomed. Suddenly, he was off-driving Glenn McGrath off the back foot. He had seen consummate ease at the other end. He was forced to look outward. Sometimes, that is good for men who dwell on matters a lot.
I often think this is why Dravid and Laxman made such a successful combination. Dravid, severe on himself, often judging himself by the most stringent of standards, putting the bad ball away in style while more often blunting the attack, allowed Laxman the freedom to exhibit his artistry. Laxman's ease of attacking play rubbed off on Dravid as their partnerships grew. The opposition, most notably the Australians under Waugh, quite often grew weary of this mix of flair and orthodoxy, needing to cross the fine line between attack and defence too many a time for their liking. It is inevitable that we wonder whether there will be another of Laxman's kind. Certainly, the times aren't exactly conducive to the forming of such personalities and the flowering of such wristy play.
Accordingly, it is all the more reason we pause and thank you, VVS, for the sublime entertainment, the broad smile, those enduring partnerships with Dravid, and perhaps more importantly, for subtle lessons in humility.
Krishna Kumar is a software architect in Bangalore who maintains that the best way to keep awake in meetings is by playing the Laxman air-cover drive
కోటికొక్కడు !
గొల్లపూడి మారుతీరావు I ఆగస్టు 27, 2012
వి.వి.యస్.లక్ష్మణ్ క్రికెట్ కెరీర్ కి స్వస్తి పలికాడు. అందరూ ఏదో ఒక సమయంలో ఆ పని చెయ్యాల్సిందే. కానీ నేటి నుంచీ జరగబోతున్న న్యూజిలాండ్ మాచ్ లో జట్టుకి ఎంపిక అయిన తర్వాత - తన ఆటని చాలించుకోబోతున్నానని ప్రకటించాడు. ప్రపంచ చరిత్రలో ఇది మరొక రికార్డు. మనిషి జీవితంలో తనంతట తాను 'ఇకచాలు' అనుకోవడం అతని హుందాతనానికీ, ఆత్మతృప్తికీ, సమ్యమనానికీ - వెరసి వ్యక్తి గంభీరమైన శీలానికీ తార్కాణం.
లక్ష్మణ్ మొదటి నుంచీ అందరిలాంటి మనిషి కాడు. అందరిలాంటి ఆటగాడూకాదు. తన పనిని తాను నెరవేర్చి, తనవాటా బాధ్యతను నిర్వర్తించి, బోరవిరుచుకోకుండా తలవొంచుకు పక్కకి తప్పుకునే మనస్తత్వం అతనిది. ఇటీవలి కాలపు క్రికెట్ చరిత్రలో సామర్ధ్యం గల ఇద్దరు గొప్ప ఆటగాళ్ళు - ఈ దేశపు కీర్తిని ఆకాశంలో నిలిపినా - ప్రతీసారి జుట్టులో తమ స్థానాన్ని నిలుపుకోడానికి తమ సామర్ధ్యాన్ని ఎప్పటికప్పుడు నిరూపించుకోవలసిన స్థితిలోనే ఉంటూ వచ్చారు - నాకు తెలిసి. ఒకరు మొహీందర్ అమర్ నాధ్. అలనాడు దేశం సాధించిన మొట్టమొదటి ప్రపంచకప్పు పోటీలో కీలక పాత్రని పోషించాడు. (ఫైనల్సు లో అతను మాన్ ఆఫ్ ది మాచ్). ఇక ఎన్నో సందర్బాలలో ఆటమీద మన జట్టు ఆశలు వదులుకున్న సమయంలో మౌనంగా మధ్యకి నడిచి చరిత్రను పదే పదే సృష్టించిన ఘనత లక్ష్మణ్ ది.
2001 మార్చి 13 చరిత్ర. కలకత్తాలో గ్రౌండులోకి నడిచి రెండు రోజులు నిర్విరామంగా ఆడి 281 పరుగులతో ఆస్ర్టేలియా వెన్నెముకలో చలి పుట్టించి, ప్రపంచాన్నే దిగ్ర్భాంతుల్ని చేసి, అలవోకగా 'విస్డన్ ' పుటల్లోకి దూసుకు వెళ్ళిన ఒకే ఒక్క ఆటగాడు వి.వి.యస్ లక్ష్మణ్. అతని ఆట క్రీడ కాదు. ఓ యాత్ర. ఓ ఉద్యమం. ఓ ఆదర్శం. జావీద్ మియాన్ దాద్ లాగ ప్రదర్శనగానో, వివ్ రిచర్డు లాగ పోటోగానో, బ్రియాన్ లారాలాగ పరిశ్రమగానో సాగించే మనస్తత్వం కాదు.
ఏనాడూ ఆట మధ్యలో మాట తూలిన సందర్భం లేదు. ఒక క్రమశిక్షణ, సమన్వయం, కర్మ సిద్దాంతాన్ని నమ్ముకున్న యోగిలాగ లక్షల మంది మధ్య ఏకాంత యాత్ర సాగిస్తున్న పధికుడిలాగ కనిపిస్తాడు. క్రికెట్ అతని ఊపిరి. ధ్యేయం కాదు.
ఆయన జీవితంలో డాక్టర్ కావాలని ఆశించినట్టు కుటుంబ వర్గాలు తెలిపాయి. ఆశ్చర్యం లేదు. మరో రంగంలో మరో విధంగా ఆ పనే చేశాడు. ఆయన స్క్వేర్ కట్, ఫ్లిక్ - ఏ వైద్యుడో సశాస్త్రీయంగా, అతి సుతారంగా, అలవోకగా, కానీ నిర్దుష్టంగా - మరల్చగలిగిన కత్తివేటు. అవును. తన వృత్తిలో మెలుకువల్ని ఆపోశన పట్టిన అరుదైన డాక్టర్ క్రికెట్ మైదానంలో లక్ష్మణ్.
లక్షల మంది మధ్య ఒంటరి. ఏ ఇంటర్వ్యూ లోనూ తన బృందం గురించీ, దేశాన్ని గురించే తప్ప తన గురించి మాట్లాడిన దాఖలాలు లేవు. క్రికెట్ ఆటనుంచి విరమించుకోడానికి కారణాలు చెప్తూ - యువతరానికి అవకాశానికి దోహదంగా ఆ పని చెస్తున్నానన్నాడు. ఈ మాట అతని హృదయంలోంచి వచ్చిన మాట. మన రాజకీయ నాయకుల 'సమాజసేవ', 'లోకకళ్యాణం' లాంటి బూతు మాటకాదు.
నా జీవితంలో ఒకే ఒక్కసారి కుర్రతనంగా పెంకితనాన్ని ప్రదర్శించాను. అతని పెళ్ళికి శుభాకాంక్షలు పంపుతూ 'వి.వి.యస్.లక్ష్మణ్, హైదరాబాదు' అని రాశాను. వారాల తర్వాత నాకు కృతజ్ఞతల ఉత్తరం వచ్చింది. ఆ మధ్య టైంస్ ఆఫ్ ఇండియా తరపున "సురభి" అనే మాసపత్రిక సంపాదకుడిగా తెలుగులో లబ్దప్రతిష్టులయిన చాలామంది గురించి వరసగా వ్యాసాలను ప్రకతించాను. ఆ సందర్బంలో వి.వి.యస్.లక్ష్మణ్ మీదా రాయాలని తలంపు. పదిసార్లు ఆలోచించి ఆలోచించి అతనికి ఫోన్ చేశాను. నాకున్న పేరు ప్రతిష్టలు నాకున్నాయి. కానీ లక్ష్మణ్ ప్రపంచ ప్రఖ్యాతిని సాధించిన ఆతగాడు. యువకుడు. చిన్న గోరోజనం, నిర్లక్ష్యం, అహంకారం - ఇలాంటివి ఏవయినా, అన్నీ అయినా ఉన్నా ఆశ్చర్యం లేదు. అబ్బురమూ కాదు. చాలా తక్కువ సందర్భాలలో ఇలా ఫోన్ చెయ్యడానికి సందేహించి ఉంటాను. అటు పక్క లక్ష్మణే మొబైల్ తీశారు. నా గొంతు వినగానే అతి మృదువుగా, మర్యాదగా, అణుకువగా "బాగున్నారాండీ?" అన్నాడు. పొంగిపోయాను. గొప్పతనానికి కళ్ళు ఆకాశంలో ఉంటాయి. వినయానికి హృదయం ఆకాశంలో ఉంటుంది. 'వినయం ' అంటే తలవొంచడం, తప్పుకోవడం కాదు. తన గొప్పతనం విలువ ఎరిగి, బేరీజు వేసుకుని దాన్ని సముచితమయిన స్థాయిలో నిలపగలగడం. ఆ పనిని అతి సమర్ధనీయంగా చేసిన సంస్కారి లక్ష్మణ్.
ఆయన దైవచింతనగల కుటుంబానికి చెందినవాడు. సాయి భక్తుడు. ఎదుర్కునే ప్రతి బంతిలోనూ పెదాలు కదుపుతూ దైవం పట్ల విశ్వాసాన్నీ, తోడునీ వదలనివాడు. తన బిడ్డలు - కొడుకుకి 'సర్వజిత్' అని పేరు పెట్టాడు. అంటే అన్నింటినీ జయించినవాడని అర్ధం. కూతురుకి 'అచింత్య' అని పేరు పెట్టాడు. అంటే ఏ చింతాలేని నిరంతనమైన శాంతిని సాధించుకున్నది అని అర్ధం. ఈ రెండు పేర్లూ లక్ష్మణ్ లోని రెండు ముఖ్యమైన స్వభావాలకు అద్దం పడతాయి.
జీవితంలో చాలామంది తమ వృత్తినుంచి రిటైరయే సమయానికి - ఏ వృత్తీ చేయలేని దశకి - వయస్సు రీత్యా రావడం రివాజు. కానీ క్రికెట్ లో పదవీ విరమణ జీవితంలోఒక దశ ముగింపుకి చిహ్నం కానీ రెండవ దశలో ప్రశాంతతకీ, మన్నికయిన జీవికకీ మొదటి దశలోనే పునాదులు వేసుకున్న లక్ష్మణ్ అదృష్టవంతుడు. చరితార్ధుడు. ఇంకొక్క మాట చెప్పాలి - కోటి మందిలో ఒక్కడు.
http://www.koumudi.net/gollapudi/082712_kotikokkadu.html
ment of AP has decided to install life-size
statues of Bapu-Ramana on the banks of river Godavari. Mullapudi Venkataramana a
renowned writer was his friend for over 70 years and they were a fantastic
combination. 
