‘It was as if life stopped for a moment. Yuvi had been ill throughout the World Cup. He was coughing, vomiting, and suffering from sleeplessness and a bad throat. But everyone thought it was because of the stress. I did too. Even during the IPL, we had consulted a doctor. He gave Yuvi some antibiotics and told him it was just a sore throat.’
On 25 May, the team of doctors in Delhi who had examined Yuvi called Shabnam and said they suspected he had a tumour in his lung. They added that they had done a Fine Needle test and the results weren’t conclusive. Only further tests could confirm it. The word ‘tumour’ was enough to splinter Shabnam’s world but there was a still a chink of hope. She wouldn’t give in to despair, though all she could do was wait. ‘It was very difficult for Yuvi. He was undergoing treatment and he started feeling better, but he didn’t want to face it. He wanted to go on playing and just forget everything. He had faith that he would be fine after the treatment, so he stuck to it. It started showing results and then he started to play.’
Yuvi refused to believe that there was anything wrong with him. But whether this was pure optimism or he was in denial is a matter of conjecture. He continued to play and even went to England on a tour. But the finger injury forced him to come back home prematurely.
At this point, he decided to go in for further treatment. ‘We went for further tests in October, and the first biopsy showed that the tumour was malignant.’
‘When we got to know that the tumour was malignant, Yuvi said to me, “Don’t worry, I’m going to come out of it.” I was totally stunned, speechless. The only thing that ran through my head was that this couldn’t be happening to me. I used to sit with him during his treatment, but sometimes I used to go away because it was very painful.’
Shabnam isn’t the kind to break down easily. She was once a state basketball player and had handled tough situations on the court. Now she quietly handled the crisis off it. She knew that pressing the panic button would only magnify the problem.
‘Even during this time of stress there was great self-belief, though people used to say all sorts of things. I can say that as a mother, it was at the back of my mind that this couldn’t happen to my son. Of course it used to bother me a lot, but I never let it take over my life. Never thought something was really wrong with him till the final test results came. He was recovering well, he was fine, and he kept his morale up. So we just let time pass by till the second report came.’
Yuvi remained strong through this period and made sure that the illness interfered with his life as little as possible. When he went to England, he didn’t talk about his illness. Not only did he hide the possibility of cancer from the rest of the world, he hid it from himself too. ‘He kept saying that he was feeling good. He only told me that he had difficulty while breathing. It affected him, but it wasn’t so much at that time. Somehow, he managed. He never complained to me,’ says Shabnam.
Yuvi stayed focussed on the game. Even when the doctors told him to relax, he didn’t want to do so. Shabnam remembers that he kept saying, ‘“When can I get on the field, when can I start playing?” But once he realized how serious the illness was, he understood that he needed to get fully fit and then come back. Half-measures weren’t possible.’
No one knew Yuvi had been diagnosed with a rare germ cell cancer till Shabnam decided to make it public many months later, towards the end of 2011. People were shocked at the news, and especially at the fact that it had been hidden for so long and Yuvi had been playing international cricket all this while. There was just one reason behind not telling anyone about it earlier. ‘Yuvi himself didn’t believe that he was not well,’ Shabnam says.
So the cricketer who was always in the spotlight and whom the media and critics alike had termed flamboyant and easygoing, had been suffering all this while, and silently. It is ironic that we see only the part of the star that shines. The more complex part remains on the other side, hidden in darkness.
Being diagnosed with a disease as deadly as cancer would come as a shock to anyone at any point in life. In Yuvi’s case, it got to him when his career had finally reached its pinnacle at the World Cup, when it seemed as though things could only get better. No one knows the pain of this better than Shabnam.
It is said that the mother feels the pain every time a child is hurt. One can imagine how much pain this mother has gone through as her superstar son was overnight turned into a patient fighting for his life. Only Yuvi and those close to him know how difficult it was, with the word ‘cancer’ hovering over every conscious moment.
Even when the cancer was confirmed and his treatment began, Yuvi remained calm and firm. He was active on social networking sites so as to not lose touch with the world. He gained strength and inspiration from his well-wishers. Yuvi might have absorbed the pain, but it was visible on the mother’s face. The days of chemotherapy were the most traumatic. She felt dizzy just looking at the number of needles that were thrust into her son’s body. But Yuvi would calmly tell her to relax. He would assure her that he was fine. At other times he would just keep quiet, not uttering a word; sometimes he joked and smiled.
Shabnam recalls how difficult it was to get Yuvi into a taxi and to the hospital. Since they stayed in a hotel during the first stage of chemotherapy, she couldn’t cook for him. But for the second chemo, they moved into an apartment.
Shabnam would be busy all day trying to make him feel better. She woke him up, fed him and cleaned his bed and room. Though Yuvi could hardly swallow anything, she kept trying to cook different dishes for him. He would throw up whatever he ate. He was like a child again. He would make a fuss about taking his medicines. He was cranky. He would not let Shabnam stay away from him for too long. Afraid of the world, he looked to her for comfort and stability. Like any child, he expected his mother to ease his pain. He tried to hide his suffering from her, but when he couldn’t control it, he cried in her lap. He might have been crafted in the sternest manner possible, but that hadn’t killed the child in him. He still needed his mother’s warm embrace and reassurance.
It must be said here that from a very young age, the distance between his parents, their troubled marriage and subsequent separation had added to Yuvi’s anxieties. Yograj Singh thinks that the problem with his son has been his lax attitude, his uncontrolled behaviour and his unrestricted social life. But Shabnam thinks that her son does enough of what he is supposed to do. ‘I had never felt that there was a time or need to control him. He is a good boy, and he has been listening to us. Fortunately we have our Guruji in Punjab, and Yuvi listens to whatever he says. We have a very good guiding force, and we are grateful to God for it. Even during his illness, all the guidance was from Guruji. I don’t guide him, it is Guruji who does it. So I never felt the need to control him.’
Shabnam never doubted her son’s courage or his determination to overcome his illness. Nor does she doubt his ability to make a comeback. She believes that he has been an ideal son and a devoted cricketer. ‘He can go to any extreme if you need him to. He is a tough boy. He is very determined,’ she says.
Shabnam must have died a hundred deaths during Yuvi’s illness and treatment. But she is a loving mother, and incredibly brave. Instead of fussing over Yuvi’s condition and causing him more distress, she decided to be his strength. She became the rock on which Yuvi could rest and rise.
Chapter Five
YOGRAJ SINGH
THE FATHER’S STORY
Are great men born great or are they made great? This question is relevant to the story of a father who saw in his son a born player. But for Yograj Singh, that was not enough. His son had to be the greatest cricketer ever to have walked the earth.
The story of Yograj is a strange one. It is a tale of the desperation of a man whose every breath was filled with the guilt of not having been successful in his preferred career. It is the tale of a man’s vision, and his obsession with this vision, which made him blind to everything else in life.
All Yograj knew was that his
son was to fulfil the promise that he himself had belied. The son had to lessen the burden of his father’s past, and lay the ghost that refused to leave him.
Unfair though it may be to make your child bear the baggage of your own past, one thing is clear. Yograj succeeded in making Yuvi what he is.
Yograj Singh’s cricketing career had started off well. He was a contemporary of Kapil Dev. Both men were from Chandigarh and both were very good all-rounders. In fact, former India captain Col. Hemu Adhikari rated Yograj a notch higher than Kapil Dev. For the India U-22 team that played against England in 1977 at Nagpur, Yograj was chosen over Kapil Dev.
But after 1977, for some reason, Yograj lost his way and was out of cricket for a couple of years. When I watched him at the nets at DAV College, Jullundur, in 1979, he still looked a very good all-rounder, though he weighed not less than 95 kg.
In those days, I was writing for Sportsweek magazine. I happened to be in Jullundur for some work and had requested Ashwini Minna, the former Punjab Ranji player who had played with Kapil Dev and Yograj Singh, to invite young talent to nets at DAV College. As the nets were going on, Yog arrived, and without looking at anyone, bowled and batted superbly. Though he looked overweight, in terms of skill, he was terrific. On my return to Mumbai, I mentioned to Polly Umrigar, the chairman of the selection committee, that I saw great potential in Yograj Singh. On the committee were experienced cricketers like Ghulam Ahmed, Chandu Sarwate, Dattu Phadkar and Vijay Mehra. They were aware that Yograj hadn’t played much competitive cricket – in two seasons, he had played only two Ranji games – yet they picked him for the Board President’s XI to play the touring Pakistan team at Baroda in 1979.
In that match, Yograj took 3 for 29, including the wickets of Javed Miandad and Wasim Raja off consecutive balls. Subsequently, he was picked for the Indian team that toured Australia and New Zealand in 1981. But he failed to perform, and from that point on, he simply faded away.
It is against this backdrop that Yograj’s behaviour towards his son needs to be considered. In his mission to make Yuvi the greatest cricketer, the end became all important, the means didn’t matter.
People called him a madman. And a madman he was. How many people are capable of such passion, such determination, perseverance, desire? The world laughed at Yograj, but he didn’t care about their criticism. All he wanted was a son. Once he had him, he took charge. Luck and chance didn’t matter because he would call the shots. He made the choices, he took the decisions. He constructed Yuvi bit by bit.
But his creation turned against him.
What follows is Yograj Singh Bundhel’s version of his life and his relationship with his son, in his own words.
‘I owe a lot to Mumbai, to you, Makarand, for resurrecting me and recommending my name to the national selectors. I always felt that I had left something incomplete. That caused me a lot of sorrow because you gave me so many opportunities, you got me a job with Mafatlal, which had the best team in India, you made me play cricket in Mumbai. Mafatlal taught me the cricket culture.
‘Whatever I achieved, how to be a mature cricketer, I learnt in Mumbai. Yet I lived with this constant pain, this awareness, this feeling, that my life was somewhat incomplete, and I felt answerable to you, Makarand, to my parents, and to myself. Despite possessing so much talent and playing on such a big platform, I couldn’t achieve much, partly because my family imposed certain restrictions.
‘Sometimes I wish I had not thought about my parents. I wish I had not thought about my family. I should have focussed on my cricket and I would have been the greatest cricketer on earth. But I had to, because of a few reasons.
‘So it was always in my heart that my family should have at least one cricketer in it. My attention went towards Yuvi because sport was in his blood. He was good at everything, from tennis to skating. I believed that he was a very talented sportsman, blessed by the gods. I felt like making him a cricketer because if you are a good athlete who has outstanding talent, you will be successful wherever you invest that talent.
‘So I forced him. One day, when Yuvi came home after winning a skating competition, my first thought was that my son was doing such a fantastic job in this sport, winning so many medals. But when I looked at him, his red band and long mane, something hit me very hard. I threw away his skates and his medals. People called me a ruthless man, but I had something else in my mind. Yuvi was twelve years old at that time.
‘I remembered people like Ashok Mankad and Sunil Gavaskar, under whom I played, telling me that all the important qualities should be inculcated from childhood itself. I remembered you telling me that one can do only one thing properly in life, not ten. So start whatever you are going to do at the earliest.
‘I still feel that if I wanted to do something for a child, I’d do it when he was seven or ten. There are many players in my academy whom I spotted when they were eight or nine years old. And so I forced Yuvi to give up skating, which he loved. Obviously, he cried a lot that day. He would never cry in front of me, but that day he did. Even today, I don’t like people crying.
‘My wife and I had an argument that day because she didn’t like what I had done. But I said, “This is not the job of women. Just shut up.”
‘My mother was also very angry and scolded me. But once Yuvi was tired of crying, I hugged him and told him that there was no future in skating. I tried to make him understand. I don’t know if he remembers, but I explained to him that one thing still remains incomplete in me and I feel answerable to those who invested so much time in me, for time is nothing but money.
‘That day, for the first time, a father cried in the arms of his twelve-year-old son. He hugged me like a mature person. Maybe he realized then, that from now on he would have to play cricket.
‘Tea used to be served in my room every morning – Shabnam used to bring it in. The day after the skating incident, I remember he came in with her and asked me, “Will you come with me to buy a cricket kit or should I go with Mom?” I was very happy. They went and bought the kit and Yuvi started playing.
‘The first thing I did was take over the garden that Shabnam had made. I destroyed it and made a pitch. Everybody in my house was angry because Shabnam had gone to great trouble to grow a beautiful garden.
‘After that, I made a gym upstairs, put lights on the pitch. Ashok Mankad was my mentor. I told him what I was doing with Yuvi, and he just nodded.
‘When he had made me an opening batsman, he had said to me, “Yograj Singh, you have no idea how much potential you have. The problem is that there is no one to guide you.”
‘I wanted to do something different. International cricket is all about fast bowling, especially now, when we go abroad and encounter bouncy tracks. So I started with hard plastic and wet tennis balls. I remember that one day, we were practising in the backyard of our Chandigarh house. The ball went through the visor of Yuvi’s helmet.
‘Yuvi fell down and I remember that my mother yelled at me. She adored her grandson. I used to tell her, “You wait and watch, your grandson will become one of the greatest players ever.” Unfortunately, she did not live long enough to see Yuvi become a great player. Shabnam reacted in much the same way. So many people used to comment on my practice sessions, which used to go on till late in the night and even during the cold days of winter.
‘I believe that there is only one thing at the heart of discipline, devotion, dedication, all those big words, and that is hard work. No one should feel sorry for a person who works hard. I also believe that if you want to create something outstanding, you have to do something different to get there.
‘At first it was very difficult for me to make Yuvi understand why I was doing it, why I was waking him up at six and making him play through the day. Today I think he realizes its value. Even if he doesn’t, I don’t want to comment on it. I believe that if you do anything, there should be a craziness, a madness for it. People called me mad but there was a method in the madness I pursued.
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�As far as getting up in the morning was concerned, I have spent many years in your house, Makarand, and I remember you used to hit me very hard on my back to wake me up at 5 a.m. so that we could reach the venue for practice on time. We used to go by a crowded train from Andheri and, after playing the match, come back in the evening at eight, have a quick meal, and by ten, you would say, “Lights off! Go to sleep.” So I think you will understand me.
‘Yuvi reacted to the hard regimen I put him through in the same way as I reacted to you. There were times when I didn’t like you because you were pushing me too hard. I used to ask myself why I had come back to cricket. But soon I realized that what you were doing was for my good. Why else would you have gone and recommended me to the national selectors when I had given up the game?
‘Yuvi didn’t realize it then and thought that his father was a Hitler. Even as an adult, he has made this statement: “I used to hate my father.” I know he hated me. But somebody had to take the call.
‘I always felt that something different had to be done. Yes, Yuvi was pushed hard for fitness, running twenty rounds at the age of eight. But I still believe that what I did was right. There were times when I had to break down the door and wake him up, pour a bucket of cold water on him. I once had to throw a tumbler full of milk at him. This may have been wrong in people’s eyes, but today it has been proven that I was right.
‘Of course, my mother and my wife were reacting to all this, and they weren’t wrong. If they’d had a bat, they would have hit me on my head. But they didn’t understand what I wanted to create. I think that when Yuvi was sixteen years old, he started realizing it himself, because he started enjoying his brilliance. He used to score 200, 250, and big hundreds.
‘To cut the long story short, I want to say this. If Yuvi had just gone on with my training and had done all the things that his father had taught him to do in those twenty years, he would have scored 20,000 runs and maybe thirty internationals hundreds by now. He would never have got injured if he had listened to me. I believe fitness and training are the ultimate things in life, not only for a sportsman but for everybody: you, me or a five-year-old. We should aspire to be a sports-oriented family and a sports-oriented country. Like Australia.
Yuvi Page 5
