
Multan in Punjab8217;s south lays magnificent claims to being South Asia8217;s oldest city. In its labyrinthine bazaars, they still tell stories about Alexander8217;s near fatal injury in these parts. Outside its famous Sufi shrines, they tell of the city8217;s divine tryst with the blazing sun. A ragged old man, they say, roamed Multan looking for a spark of fire to cook his little piece of meat. Everyone rebuffed him, provoking the sun to descend all the way down and scorch the city forever to 50-plus degree summers. Roam Multan8217;s restive streets, and each stop will give intimation of the transformative.
To those stories, add the experience of India8217;s Test cricketers in March 2004. In town for the opening match of the friendship series, they left a week later changed men. Virender Sehwag drank deep from a rare goblet of patience and became India8217;s only triple centurion. Sachin Tendulkar, frozen six runs short of a double century by an emphatic declaration, stepped out of his halo and came agonisingly close to petulance. And Rahul Dravid, who standing in as skipper for an injured Saurav Ganguly signalled that declaration, made choices that snapped a very attractively tragic narrative that had been woven around his career. The man who had been relegated to bridesmaid-hood quietly asserted his credentials to captain India.
It took till this Tuesday, twenty turbulent months, for those credentials to be accepted.
Dravid as Test captain is an intriguing proposition. Walk the paces on his journey so far, and you gain a measure of how much India have altered in that time. And maybe 8212; just maybe 8212; you will find that the team that comes into his care this season is so much of his own making. When Dravid and Ganguly debuted in 1996, the team was on the brink of implosion. Matchfixing was still mentioned in hushed whispers. But in Mohammed Azharuddin8217;s team the occasional individual dazzle substituted for strategy, and the rumour mill churned out theories on how bright young men could be run out of the team.
From those earliest days, through the early years after the match-fixing clean-up, a profile of Dravid gained currency. It went: the well-spoken Karnataka lad was just too much of a Mr Nice Guy, he gave too much of himself, he was too orthodox on the field and too quiet off it to be anything but the best supporting player. Why, even the scorecard said so. When India won and Dravid did well 8212; like that big hundred in Calcutta 2001 8212; he would have laid the platform for another to do even better V.V.S. Laxman. When he stared hard at the odds, his grit and class would perhaps even make him man of the match Johannesburg, Georgetown, 1996-97. But be sure the match would not have been taken by India.
It began to change in the summer of 2002. At Headingley, on day one8217;s nasty track, Dravid took the blows and gave India a magic number: 148. It came sandwiched between some-time opener Sanjay Bangar8217;s half-century and Sachin Tendulkar8217;s even bigger hundred. India won. Dravid was man of the match.
India and Dravid had begun to close the distance between themselves. India began to be intolerant of the infrequent performer. They were inducted into the ways of modern sport. They became mindful that each one8217;s claim to a place in the side was as strong as his last performance. All of these, Dravid8217;s tenets.
They, each one of them, also began playing better overseas, so you could finally tear up that ugly one-liner, lions at home and lambs abroad. Dravid in his early years held apart, with his nose buried in the latest David Halberstam at airport waiting rooms and with his enthusiasm to soak in the local atmosphere by doing a quick tour of the foreign city8217;s sights and restaurants. The others, by exaggerated account, just pined for Indian khana. But tour with the team now, and again, the Dravid template is seen to be accepted.
It is Dravid8217;s burden that he will forever be asked to account for that Multan declaration. But at least now you will think twice before calling him Mr Nice Guy. Not too bad a swap.