BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY

Post his triumph at Helsinki in 1952, the country allowed this man to rust, corroding his spirit if not his dignity. But as the years went by and the one individual medal shimmered brighter with each passing failure at the quadrennial event until Leander Paes cornered a bronze 44 years later in 1996, the legend reddened with time like good wine.

The wrestler from Karad in south-west Maharashtra won the nascent Indian nation its first individual honour at the biggest sporting stage but never once demanded his share of the prestige-pie. The country, shamelessly, mistook his modesty for muted silence and, as the years passed, forgot about him altogether.

Jadhav never really did speak much. 8220;One for every 10-15 words spoken to him,8221; says his son Ranjit, sitting at his house Olympica Nivas at Karve Naka in Goleshwar village, Karad. Built from his life8217;s savings of 75,000 8212; his last pay-packet was Rs 1,784 and 20 paise after 27 years of service in the police 8212; the wrestler never did get to reside in this house made after a lot of pocket-pinching and heartache. He was killed at age 59 in 1984 when riding pillion on a moped which collided with a truck. The house was then roofless, with just the bare walls.

It is unthinkable that Jadhav would8217;ve boasted about 1952 sitting in that house. Bragging was one of the many vices which Jadhav, a born pahelwan, avoided earnestly all his life. Mild-mannered to a fault, the only time he spoke up was when, at the Olympic trials in Chennai ahead of Helsinki, brazen officials ruled against him and pushed for their own show-pony in the 125-pound bantamweight category. Writing to the Maharaja of Patiala, he earned a re-trial at Kolkata 8212; and the ticket to Finland.

Snubs weren8217;t uncommon in his life. But a chance at Helsinki to prove his worth mattered to him more than anything else he ever did.

SMALL IS BIG
Small-statured at 58217;58221;, Jadhav never inspired awe 8212; and he accepted that. But stripped to his traditional langot 8212; the wrestler-wear 8212; the strength built from his daily 11-mile run and 2000 sit-ups could surprise any challenger who had earlier scoffed at the little man. And there were many who scoffed.

At Nasik, a year before he got noticed and was pitchforked into the wrestling squad that went to the London Games in 1948, Jadhav was pitted into a bout for an insulting sum of Re 1, when stakes ritually started at Rs 51. Jadhav didn8217;t complain. When an opponent was found, he was pinned to the ground within seconds. The stakes rose to Rs 51 and then Rs 151 at the insistence of patron Manikrao of Baroda, but the time taken to end the bout was the same 5-10 seconds. 8220;They said that he could effect the Multani hold 8212; a move difficult to execute but spectacular when applied 8212; in the small time it took a tobacco-chewing villager to tire of it and spit it out,8221; says Ranjit.

His trademark Multani was later used to ground many rivals 8212; Australian B Hamms was stretchered out at the London Olympics 8212; but not before he was roughed up at the Lucknow nationals by wrestlers who refused to believe he was a serious competitor.

MAD SCRAMBLE
According to author Sanjay Dudhane, who has penned the biography, Olympicveer KD Jadhav, that small frame would have even cost him his trip to Helsinki, since the then Chief Minister of the state and his officials sized him up and decided for themselves that this wrestler wasn8217;t big enough to head to the Olympics. They refused to help with government funding 8212; a sum of Rs 3000 of the 12,000 required.

The amount was assembled after Jadhav gave up on the amount he intended to use to build a home for his family of eight children, and the principal of the Shahaji Law College Dabholkar 8212; also the wrestler8217;s fan 8212; mortgaged his house. The Tilak school headmaster Walavade donated three months of his salary, and his early mentor Belapure Guruji went around Satara collecting Olympic donation receipts from door to door. Finally, the Maratha Sahakari Bank loaned out Rs 3,000 and the deficit was bridged just in time for Jadhav to fly to Helsinki.

8220;The struggle was phenomenal, though Saaheb never lost hope, nor his focus,8221; Ranjit says.

Jadhav8217;s 6th-place finish at London 8212; owing to his poor understanding of instructions in English 8212; pricked him long and hard. The four intervening years were spent building on his strength since a rolling fall at London had betrayed a weakness, and brushing up on spoken English so that he wasn8217;t left clueless the next time.

CAUGHT UNAWARES
The medal, when it arrived, came in bewildering circumstances. Having qualified for the final phase of competition, after three wins and a bye in the early rounds, Khashaba was wrongly informed by an Indian official that it was a 8216;rest day8217;, when in fact, it was the day of the competition. Bored of sitting at his room in the Olympics Village, the wrestler happened to trudge out to the venue to watch other fights, when his name was announced over the amplified system.
Keeping his cool when a lesser athlete would have raged at the official8217;s blatant stupidity, Jadhav readied for the bout. Though he lost on a point to Japanese Shohachi Ishi 8212; and was forced to enter the ring against Russian Rashid Mamedbekov within 15 minutes of the first bout as the rules were flouted further 8212; the bronze was won.
As Jadhav stepped onto the podium, hurriedly pulling on his India track-suit, he had fulfilled a dream that was stoked on August 15, 1947 when he saluted the tricolour at his Rajaram College in Kolhapur. 8220;I was witness to a big moment in the nation8217;s history,8221; Jadhav said many years later, in his own modest manner.

JOB-HUNTING
The many times he didn8217;t speak at all were to leave him a harrowed man in subsequent years. Struggling to find employment worthy of his BA-LLB education, Jadhav didn8217;t have a job for four years after his medal. In stark departure of another cliche tagged to a village wrestler, Jadhav had diligently pursued bookish education in Karad and Kolhapur. He had never ignored it using the excuse of time spent on honing his wrestling, and also had an inclination for the fine arts, being a fine sketcher and writer.

Unlike the taalim-pahelwans of those years, Jadhav neither stayed at the wrestler8217;s abode gulping down thandaai almond-rich milk or gobbling a mutton-butter-date-rich diet, but had gained his early nourishment from a millet-feast, and milk and bananas at the college boarding.

When he did land a job, it was owing to the then Mumbai IG seeking him out on a holiday in Kolhapur and offering him the post of a police sub-inspector. Still, it took Jadhav 12 years to scale up a rank, when others far less qualified were promoted ahead of him.

8220;I took part in the World Olympic Games held at London in 1948 and stood sixth. This was the first time that an Indian could secure any place in the Olympic Games in an individual event. I represented India in the 15th World Olympic Games held at Helsinki Finland in 1952 and won the bronze medal. None from India had secured such honour for his mother land before me and till today it is a record,8221; was how this Olympic medallist was forced to prove his worthiness, in a letter written to his seniors in 1969, wondering about his role in the police. The position of sports officer was denied to him anyway, and it was only with six months left in service that Jadhav got promoted to ACP. Jadhav spent his last days fighting for a pension, which was denied to him, ironically because they said he was a sports officer, not a policeman.

IGNORED, FORGOTTEN
For someone who remained the lone individual medallist at the Olympics, Jadhav intriguingly never figured on the honour-call of the Arjuna Award, finally given posthumously 40 years after their introduction in 2001. Recognition at home in Maharashtra and the Shiv Chhatrapati award eluded as well till 1994, 10 years after his demise. Little wonder then that Ranjit Jadhav recalls his father being the happiest at receiving Ichalkaranji8217;s prestigious FIE Foundation award in 1983. That the list included RK Laxman and Vasant Gowariker would8217;ve made him happier still, as the Indian government didn8217;t even bother to honour him with a civilian award, if they did indeed think that Arjuna was too small for the medallist.

8220;His achievement was huge, but the appreciation wasn8217;t even token,8221; Ranjit says. 8220;He didn8217;t go asking for favours from anyone. And after his death, when we appealed to the CM, the response was negative. I think he8217;d reached the 8216;don8217;t care8217; stage and started believing himself to be a common citizen. He8217;d say, 8216;What I had to do I8217;ve done, I8217;m not going and begging from anyone8217;.8221;

What redeemed this apathy somewhat, was how huge crowds could respond to him. At a function at Yavatmal, where Ajit Wadekar was expected to be chief guest after the cricket team8217;s twin-triumphs in 1971, the organisers were left sweating after the cricketer was caught in a bandh, and a crowd of 25,000 turned restless. 8220;They hurriedly asked Saaheb. He said, 8216;Ok I won8217;t decline any sporting challenge. If the crowd doesn8217;t like me, you and me will both face their wrath. Go ahead and announce my name.8217;8221; The applause was thunderous.

But what really helped keep the bitterness at bay was that the rewards never excited him as much as the sport. He once wrote, 8220;I8217;ll quote Johnny 8216;Tarzan8217; Wesmuller. If I was born again, I8217;d want to dedicate my life to wrestling. Because this sport gave me the best and happiest moments of my life.8221;

KD Jadhav never left his love for the red mud. The nation, though, ought to be red-faced at how it ignored its biggest Olympic hero.