Miss you,Tiger

In a special to The Indian Express,author Jeffrey Archer pays tribute to Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi.

The Nawab has passed away. He was my friend and a great of the game. On both counts,he will be sorely missed.

My association with the Nawab goes back fifty years. I first met him through some common friends at Oxford,and the first thing that struck me about him was the God-given gift he possessed to treat all men as equals. He was an amateur back then,a man of singular talent. Of course he was a dashing young fellow with an exquisite cover drive,but what stood out were the qualities of an old- fashioned gentleman in him,even as a young man. He stood apart for his kind nature and a heart of gold.

I followed his cricket closely during his varsity days and went on to become a great fan of his captaincy when he plied his trade for India. But the Nawab I know,adore and remember is the man himself,the brilliant nature possessed within his shy being.

Despite hailing from a royal family,and having the blood of a Maharaja as we like to refer to the Indian princes back here in England flowing in his veins,Pataudi was a man for the masses,someone who reached beyond both the realms of his sport. He always considered himself lucky and privileged to be born in such a family,and wasnt the kind to throw his weight around. The Nawab liked to earn peoples respect. That was his style,both on and off the field. I was fortunate to have called him my friend.

Cricket may have been his focus during his college days,but he was well read,well educated and a jolly good fellow. In fact,he would often tell me how much he loved my books. Kane and Abel won plenty of critical acclaim,but one of my most cherished reviews came from the Nawab. He told me it was his favourite,and he is a great fan of the book.

I too was a great fan of the cricketer,enough to base The Century,a short story from A Quiver Full of Arrows,on him.

Not many people know that it was about the Nawab,considering the protagonist is a nameless character and appeared in a book with several other stories of fiction. But it was indeed a tribute to the cricketer I adored.

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Like all stories,it has its fictional elements and Ive taken creative liberties to broaden the canvas. But about 90 per cent of it is true,based solely on the Nawabs college days and the Blues match between Oxford and Cambridge. In the story,the protagonist is desperate to score a century at Lords,just like his famous father once did. I wanted to portray the Nawab as a generous winner and a gracious loser.

I often tell people that I score about two boundaries annually,after having tirelessly watched the ball with both my eyes. The Nawab scored most of his runs with one,including the demolishing 203 he scored against England in Delhi. I cherish his scores like it were mine,more so because each of his six centuries were scored with the aid of just his left eye. I wonder what wouldve been if that horrific accident hadnt taken place.

The Nawab was here in England for the India tour in the role of an expert,but unfortunately I wasnt able to meet him. But when I see the great gentlemen of this sport,like Kumble and Dravid and Laxman and Tendulkar,Im reminded of the Nawab. He set the precedent of graciousness,something that all Indians who play this sport seem to possess. Accept defeat without excuses,and treat victory with grace.

His legacy will carry on in India and across the canvas of the global game. He delivered India its first overseas victory,something that cannot be taken for granted,considering what unfolded in England recently. But Im sure the Nawab would have wanted the Indian team to move on,and treat both wins and losses as equals.

As told to Aditya Iyer