Tags:
Journalism of Courage
Book: Yuvraj Singh: The Test of My Life
Publisher: Random House
Price: Rs 399
Pages: 189
It is a matter of some disappointment that cricketers rarely write good books. When indeed they do,it is amazing how interesting careers look infinitely more boring,how exciting events are clothed with terrifyingly dull prose and how lives become scorecards drearily described in an attempt to fill pages. Then comes Yuvraj Singhs book. And you want to read it.
This is really a book of two stories,closely intertwined,within one narrative. It is the story of the 2011 World Cup win but played out against the backdrop of a deadly shadow. As India inched closer to a second World Cup,a giant tumour,eventually 15cm x 11cm x 13 cm was growing within Yuvraj and pressing against his lung and artery. He couldnt sleep,he was throwing up,he was constantly breathless and he was winning man of the match awards. The doctors later told him that he could have died of a heart attack because the artery was being squeezed and no one would have known he had cancer!
And so the book needs to be read at two levels. One,as a sportsmans account of how the biggest event in his life unfolded,and two,of the fear of fighting something he couldnt see. He didnt know how it would behave,what it would do,whether it would take away the only thing he was good at and,worst of all,whether it would claim him. When we write of others,we use these words easily but Yuvrajs story affected me,it constantly had me thinking: what if it was me,what if it was someone in my family And then I tried remembering the World Cup all over again.
Were there pictures of him desperately trying to get up from under five or six bodies piled up on him in celebration because he could no longer breathe? Do I remember that battle cry after the quarter final against Australia in Ahmedabad? Why was he going on about wanting to do it for Sachin?
And it is an honestly written book. He talks about problems between his parents,the stress,and then the relief,of them living apart,of how it affected his younger brother and of how cricket became an escape from it all. There is respect for what his father had tried to do but it doesnt gloss over an uneasy relationship between father and son. Yograj Singh once threw a glass of milk at him which he ducked but which broke a window behind him because he hadnt scored enough runs. But he also remembers his advice from his growing-up years,play straight,down the ground,at a crucial time in the World Cup quarter-final.
There is also the frustration of not really making it in Test cricket and he is quite open about putting in a comment from VVS Laxman of how he knew two Yuvrajs; one who believed he could win every one-day game and the other who was a bundle of nerves in a Test match.
But eventually,this is the story of a fight against an illness that scared him like nothing else had; of someone who tried to cure his cancer with acupuncture and of a humane doctor who gave him reassurance and told him the truth. And it is a mothers story; of a woman who dropped everything and,as he says,gave birth to him twice. Unless you are hard and emotionless you will find it difficult not to be moved by Shabnams story. And of the love of the Indian cricket fan,of students in Indiana who made cards and brought food and simple people who helped with shopping and cooked when needed. Those are not isolated stories: mothers care,friends help,good Samaritans emerge but because it is Yuvraj,because it is on either side of the World Cup,you read it all and you feel good.
And you get an insight into people around Indian cricket; of trainers who didnt rest but didnt let Yuvraj ease up on his routine; of team doctors who woke up at 4am to cajole a nervy match-winner to bed,who took great efforts to find the right sleeping pill before a World Cup final; of teammates who called only to tell stories that would raise his spirits and yes,of administrators who gave assurances of looking after everything. Indeed Yuvraj even talks about the support system in Indian cricket and wonders how he would have fared if he had been playing another sport.
It is a book that could have become syrupy,melodramatic and very filmi. Or it could have told the story with a literary flourish that wouldnt quite have been Yuvraj. At most times,it stays simple and it is in doing that and yet telling the story that Sharda Ugra plays her role. The writer with flair does come through fleetingly but she doesnt allow style to dominate. A biography would have been very differently,but I suspect more easily,written.
Far too much of Indian cricket is shrouded behind scorecards,irrelevant quotes,noise,glamour and money. There are some lovely stories to be told that the lure of the daily media box office doesnt always allow. It is good to see one come up sometimes.
