1983-Facts and Fiction

Backstage- The folklore of Bridgetown: Part 2

The next day, Ballu got out early, and Jimmy went down first, face bandaged up. He was acutely aware of his captain's icy glances as he did, however, which was making him feel more than a little uncomfortable.

"And would you believe it—Mohinder Amarnath is walking down to resume his innings," said the commentator, turning to Lala ji to see his reaction, which was impassive. "I don't think Clive Lloyd's team would be too happy...they were sure they'd removed their biggest threat to an innings victory with that vicious injury yesterday..."

The first ball from Holding was a short one—expected.

Mohinder Amarnath hooked it to the boundary. Expected.

Kapil and Jimmy shared a 49-run partnership that day—easily one of the longest ones shared by two batsmen without exchanging a single word. Well, there were plenty of one-sided comments from Jimmy; Kapil, however, answered only in chilly looks and sniffs.

Eventually Kapil's luck ran out, and after a partnership between Jimmy and Kirmani, India was 9 down in a blink and then Jimmy was the last man out, after a brilliant knock of 80, just after eliminating the trail. West Indies needed 1 run to win in the fourth innings, which they managed in the first ball itself.

Though on the losing side, most of the Indians were wearing smiles on their faces as they exchanged the handshakes, owing to the bizarre way of victory. Except the captain, who insisted on maintaining a grim silence.

********************

Though he'd played a good knock in spite of getting injured in a shameful way, Jimmy found his knees shaking when he called his father after the match.

"Where were you yesterday night?" asked his father grimly.

Jimmy's knees shook harder.

To be fair on Lala ji, though, watching his son bleeding all over the pitch, then worrying for fifteen hours, repeatedly being told by the hospital people, and once by Kapil his son was 'sleeping' and subsequently seeing him coming out to bat, hooking the WI pace quartet to the boundary, light as rain, had been too much to digest. If he spoke a little more harshly than he was feeling towards his son at the moment, therefore, it wasn't entirely his fault.

"The—the hospital, dad...why—do you ask?"

Under ordinary circumstances, senior Amarnath would have grilled junior Amarnath about how come he'd been sleeping all day yesterday and come out to bat early morning today. Under ordinary circumstances, he'd have wrapped up talking about the 80-run innings with a brusque 'well done, son.'

What his son had done today was anything but ordinary.

"Aaj tune mujhe dass saal jawan kar diya yaar."

A dumbfounded Jimmy needed almost a whole minute to regain his voice, and even then, he just managed a, "Yes, dad," before starting to cry again.

******************

The warmth of his father's words was, to a large extent, marred by the cold shoulder Kaps was giving him now; he'd gone to stay over at an aunt's place, who lived in Barbados, and was still refusing to say a civil word every time Jimmy called. He persisted in cutting the call the moment he got to know who was calling, which Jimmy felt was quite mean. It would be a different thing if he didn't pick up the calls at all.

Sunny, just having shaken off Cheeka, who wanted to play Bluff for the fiftieth time that evening, looked into Jimmy's room, asking, "Want to go for a walk?"

"Sunny!" said Jimmy at once. "Kaps isn't answering my calls, would you call him and see if he's talking to you?"

"Uh," said Sunny, hesitating. He'd not been on very good terms with Kapil since the shift in captaincy, and only two days back they'd had a nasty disagreement, which neither had apologized for or had referred to again.